


Freedom's Just Another Word For Nothing Left To Lose

by Daxii



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Lotsa Smut, M/M, pornstar AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxii/pseuds/Daxii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a desperate attempt to keep his best friend from knowing about what he does for a living, Haru moves out of Nagisa's apartment and manages to find a room in the home of quite possibly the sweetest couple he's ever met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maybeillride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeillride/gifts).



> This loser should just assume I'm gifting all my fics to her at this point but hey it's nice to have it in writing ;)

Haru grips the sheets and tosses his head back, letting out a moan. The man adjusts his hold on his hips, spreading him wider and tilting his legs back. One hand kneads at the plump of his ass and he slides in deeper, balanced on his knees and leaning just enough so the camera can dip in for a quick shot of his cock going in and out of Haru’s ass, and then back off ready for the money shot.

Only, Haru’s not there yet, however hard his pink haired partner is trying to find his prostate, and Haru hears the agitated sigh from the director. But hey, at least he’s stayed hard this time. He’ll just jerk it himself for a few, and Kisumi comes down to kiss him, slowing his thrusts to keep it together a bit longer.

Finally, he feels the familiar bubble in his balls and thrusts his hips up as a silent signal for Kisumi to pull out. He whips off his condom, grabbing hold of both their cocks in one hand and jacking them together until he comes with a moan, Haru following when he’s on his last spurt. Haru forces a gasp, let’s his eyes slip shut, and moves gently against Kisumi as he comes down for a kiss, flopping on top of him. He affords him a hug, resting his arm in the small of his back as they spend a few minutes basking for the end of the scene.

“Great job, Kisumi. Haruka, you need to look more into it! Especially this afternoon! Now go and get cleaned up, you’ve a couple of hours to eat and stuff. I want you both in Studio Three at 2:30!” Seijurou yells.

Haru rolls his eyes behind his lids, sighing into Kisumi’s hair.

“Awww, was I really so bad?” Kisumi teases, nudging his cheek with his nose.

Haru pats his back. “You’re fine. Now get off.”

“But you make such a nice pillow!” he whines, rolling totally on top of him, humping against his cock just slightly. Haru has no idea how he can still be so ready to go.

Another few nudges and he finally has Kisumi off him and he can sit up, legs off the side of the bed to find the slippers and just grabbing the robe in his hand to walk back to their little dressing room/cupboard. Kisumi follows, needing a minute to wipe his hand off on some loo roll in the bedside drawer, and then drapes a fleece-covered arm around Haru’s shoulders after he’s bounced off the bedroom-set. Not that he bothers to tie his robe up or anything, leaving it hanging open for the world to see.

The water pressure of the shower is so low it’s barely a drizzle, and the tiny little stall, just a drain and a plastic curtain in the corner of the dressing room, is far too tiny when Kisumi wriggles his way in with Haru after barely two minutes to scrub himself off. Kisumi takes longer, and sitting on one of the deflated bean bags, Haru hears the familiar squelch of Kisumi prepping himself up for later. He should probably plug up too, to stay stretched out, but he can do that _after_ he’s eaten.

“Have you read the script for later?” Kisumi has his head in Haru’s lap, shoveling cold pasta into his mouth, occasionally offering the pot after Haru has finished his sandwich.

Haru just shrugs. “I don’t even know the other guy.”

“Yeah? I’ve seen his videos. He’s _niiiice_.” Haru raises his eyebrow. “He’s like, the opposite of you.”

“Excuse me?” Haru jostles his knee to bounce Kisumi’s head, but gets a teasing kiss to the inside of his thigh.

“You know I like you too. Same dark hair, same blue eyes… but his are a bit greener… but he’s _big_. Tall and you should _see_ his abs. Shoulders a mile wide. He’s gorgeous. And we both get a turn on that dick.”

Haru doesn’t know if he likes _big_ as much as Kisumi seems to. Kisumi’s tall, almost a foot taller than him, enough that Haru always ends up being the cute little twink bottom in their scenes together. But he’s also slender, a similar build to Haru. A nice little waist Haru can fit his arm around just so, and legs that go on for days. Perfectly pale skin littered with healing love bites they’ll need to cover with concealer before they go out again. Haru rubs the one he left on his shoulder last week.

“Got any Blues?” Haru asks after a moment’s quiet.

Kisumi pauses, slowly nods. “You’re… really not feeling it today, are you?”

Haru shrugs. When’s he ever feeling it these days? He eyes up the narrow medical examination bench stuffed into the corner of their room, probably bought at a weird junk shop and then used as a prop for one scene or another. He could do with a nap. Maybe he’ll wake up in a better mood. He ditches the robe, grabbing the baggy sweats and the Samezuka Studio’s hoodie he always keeps in his locker (as _if_ he’d ever wear it outside). Kisumi’s watching him, he can feel it, and gets the idea pretty quickly. As if Haru expected anything less than getting a buddy for his snooze. But he doesn’t _exactly_ mind. Kisumi is tolerable, and more importantly, Kisumi is tolerant of _him_ , too, always seeming pleased to see him however often Haru brushes him off.

However… Kisumi grabs his A4 print out of their scene this afternoon. Haru squidges up to the wall so there’s room for the two of them on the tiny plastic bench, and Kisumi snuggles into his side, using his robe like a blanket for both of them.

“You know you have to read it.”

“Read it _to_ me, then.” Haru closes his eyes, arm around Kisumi’s bare back.

“You are _so_ embarrassing! I can’t read this! I’ll blush myself into oblivion!”

Haru’s eyes waver as Kisumi stares him down in what is absolute abject _horror_. “I… think you might have your priorities a _bit_ wrong. You’re about to –” he glances at the sheet “– be _spit roasted_ by me and my giant doppelganger, yet you won’t even read me the script.”

“Well when you put it like _that – !!_ ” Kisumi cuts himself off, descending into a groan. Haru can feel how hot his blush is, all flustered like he’s fourteen, and utters a rare laugh when he gets cuddled even harder and Kisumi hides his head in his chest.

When he emerges, eyes hollow and face pale, he gives Haru this soft look, bringing his head up closer and bumping their noses. “Made you laugh.”

He says it so much like it’s a competition that Haru startles, and now he really _is_ losing whatever little thing Kisumi’s up to, as he’s lost his single second for a comeback and now he’s being flattened into the bench, Kisumi in his lap. “What of it?” he finally says, hardening his gaze.

“Oh, nothing,” he kisses his lips. It’s a weird thing, off of a set, but Haru’s so _used_ to it he forgets to be uncomfortable. “Cheered you up, though.”

“I… guess?”

“I totally deserve a reward.”

“You’re already using me as a mattress. What more could you want?”

Kisumi comes in even closer, totally flush against Haru’s body, legs slotted in between his. Haru refrains from folding his arms around him until he’s said what he wants, not wanting to give in _just_ yet.

“Finger me.”

Haru blinks.

“ _Really, Kisumi?!_ ”

“Hey! I’m gonna be –” he grabs the sheet and points to the top quarter “ _eating_ your ass in about an hour and a half, the _least_ you can do is make my pounding from the Beast a painless experience.”

“I hate you. Get the lube.”

 

Haru instantly recognises their third co-star as the only other one in the room strutting around with absolutely nothing on. He _is_ big, in _all_ departments, and Haru shudders a little. He can’t tell if it’s anticipation or dread or just _boredom_. He’s so over all this. Kisumi gives him an excited pat on the arm and grabs his wrist to drag him over. Even in porn it’s customary to at least say _hi_ before they get down to business.

“Ah… Yamazaki Sousuke, right?” Kisumi asks. “I’m Shigino Kisumi, and this is Nanase Haruka.”

“Kemono,” Sousuke allows Kisumi’s handshake, but he’s stiff, and clearly they’re only gonna be on stage-name terms for the considerably future.

“Pinkunohyō,” Kisumi corrects himself.

Sousuke turns to Haru, waiting for another formal shake. “Iruka,” Haru says bluntly, prompting a smirk.

“I’ve heard of you,” he says simply, then walks off to claim his spot in the centre of the bed.

Kisumi stares after him, then rounds on Haru with a (gentle, can’t leave marks) knock to the chest. “He’s heard of _you?!_ What about _me?!_ ”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s _not_ a good thing. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

They both slip tentatively to each side of Sousuke, edging under his arms. He glances down at them in an obvious disappointment, but they’re gonna have to get pretty comfortable with each other damn fast. Kisumi snuggles shamelessly, his mess of hair irritating Sousuke’s nose, but at least that awkward first-touch is gone on that side of the bed. Haru, however, remains tense. Maybe things will lighten up when the Viagra kicks in, but for now, Sousuke just feels weirdly clammy and his arm hair is tickling (seriously, does he use conditioner on this stuff?). His hand is hot and sort of threatening when it closes around Haru’s shoulder, mirrored on Kisumi’s.  

There’s a large timer near Sei, and with Haru’s hasty memorisation of the script, they have a pretty rough guide for which positions to change to at which time, but it’s not exactly precision timing. The only thing to really focus on is _showing Sousuke off_. He’s the main man in this game, much more acclaimed than either Haru or Kisumi can ever hope to be. It’s the big cock, the bigger body, and the brazenly brash attitude. Not that Haru’s jealous. The more places he can show his face, the better. He can’t afford another incident like the one in the library.

The crappy soundtrack plays in the background, just filling the air. _Setting the mood_ , which is really just getting them into the zone of _work_ rather than anything erotic. Sousuke and Kisumi kiss while Haru leaves little pecks all the way down to Sousuke’s cock, and he and Kisumi share it like a lollypop. It’s that weird texture of skin mingled with an overly scented manly body wash, like spices and tea-tree.

Sousuke gets them moving, taking control. Haru sees something flash across Kisumi’s face when Sousuke gets hold of him, rough, and pins him onto his back. He doesn’t need to bother with a finger, just pushes straight in, bare, and Haru’s suddenly _glad_ Kisumi made them prep up so well. The worry on Kisumi’s face ebbs away after a moment, but Haru doesn’t trust the way he grips his thighs to tightly when Haru balances over his face. The licks on his hole feel forced and reluctant, and Haru feels nothing but guilt. Sousuke’s rough, which he should have expected, really, and he’s getting the distinct impression that this is something Kisumi’s _really not into_. He’s only young – Haru’s not sure _how_ young - and much more attuned to gentle, cheeky scenes, thriving on the afterglow more than the actual sex. He’s cuddly, _clingy_ , and way, way out of his depth.

But the way Sousuke grabs Haru’s waist with one hand, tugging him in for a hot, hard kiss, sends a spark through him he hasn’t felt in _months_. He feels Sousuke smirk and break away, over too soon, and Haru has to get off and back away for a minute while Kisumi is wrenched onto his knees, being taken from behind now. Away from Sousuke’s spell, Haru can check on him again, cupping his cheek even as he has to put his dick in his mouth. Can Sousuke not see what he’s doing to him…?

No. Sousuke can’t see anything, actually, with his eyes shut and head thrown back, pounding into Kisumi, dragging him back and forth by the hips. Losing himself in Kisumi. Haru forgets to even feel Kisumi sucking at him, just can’t stop staring at Sousuke.

He’s sort of amazed how hard Kisumi is when they shift again, Haru being tipped onto his back and tugged forwards by Kisumi, who slips inside and lies on top of him with nothing short of _relief_ with how the pace has to lull to accommodate the threesome. Sousuke rocks slow and deep into him, and Kisumi makes his own pace with Haru, clutching on and kissing like he’s desperate. Haru lets him, closing his eyes into the kiss and _trying_ to enjoy the added feeling of Sousuke moving them both, but it’s hard when Kisumi’s so tense. He winds a hand into Kisumi’s hair, soothing.

Kisumi’s little moans and gasps are familiar, he’s getting so close. Sousuke gives a bit of a warning grunt – is he close too? They need to move it along. Kisumi needs to come.

“Come on,” Haru coaxes, barely a whisper that shouldn’t be picked up by the budget mics.

Kisumi makes a whining noise and pushes his head into Haru’s shoulder, sucking at his neck between gasps as he goes over the edge. A lot of the external pleasure is forced. Haru knows Kisumi’s body, knows how much of a lame finish this is for him, but at least it’s done. Haru refrains from wrinkling his nose at the wet feeling when Kisumi pulls out and moves off. He’s out of the way, leaning on the headboard of the bed as he relaxes and calms down, going back to where they started the whole scene.

There’s barely time for Haru to glance and make sure he’s doing ok before Sousuke’s grabbed him, thumbs digging into his ribs so hard it hurts and there’ll be bruises on his back from his fingertips. Haru’s so wet now that Sousuke just slips right on in, hunkering over him. Haru feels so small, completely smothered by his weight. Sousuke’s stamina is almost astounding, running right back up to full throttle, ramming Haru so hard his head is wobbling on his neck, vibrating every muscle.

And he loves it. The lack of control. He can do nothing but lie there and take it. He doesn’t even need to act. His moans are real, his need is so raw and genuine. It’s everything that’s missing from the coy little scenes he does with Kisumi, and lacking all the discomfort when it’s anyone else who’s new and different. That buzz from a one night stand on a night out. The purest form of pleasure.

… Until Sousuke makes a moan like a roar and leaves his load in Haru, not even taking a second to go still and pant on top of him. He’s just off, getting over to the headboard to hook Kisumi under his arm. Haru’s legs are just jelly and the crawl over is humiliating, and he collapses between Sousuke’s legs. Kisumi takes Haru's cock in his mouth to finish him off, getting the mandatory facial shot for the end of the video, when Haru makes a mess all over Kisumi’s pretty little cheek.

The guilt sets in when Kisumi gets straight in the shower without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few chapters of this written and just sitting around in my documents because I wanted to get other things completed before posting anything new.  
> Buuuut I'm unable to actually write the pending chapters for some of my other fics at the moment (I have overtime coming out of my ass you've no idea asdfghjkl), so thought to just post SOMETHING I'd put this up.  
> I'm actually really really enjoying this fic. Except for the fact that writing smut pretty much bores me, and as soon as I started avoiding it my brain just goes HEY DO A PORNSTAR FIC


	2. Chapter 2

Haru spends a minute just watching him through the little gap in the curtain. He doesn’t seem tense, or even shaken, but there’s something in the air that’s making Haru hesitate before slipping in behind him. It feels like betrayal.

He steps in, moving the curtain as little as possible, like he’s trying not to be there at all, but Kisumi clearly catches him in the corner of his eye. His mouth tilts upwards in a soft smile. Understanding? Forgiveness? Yet he stays facing forwards and Haru doesn’t dare touch him.

“That was a nice shoot,” Kisumi says. The lilt in his tone is forced, but Haru plays along.

“I… wasn’t expecting it.”

“Yeah? You should do your research more! _Tsk_ , so unprofessional!”

“What about you?” Haru’s fingers twitch at his sides, wanting to slide his hands onto Kisumi’s waist to bridge this space between them. It feels unnatural to not have one body part or another of Kisumi's draped over him and he's suddenly missing the contact he always finds so bothersome.

“Hmm? Ah…” Kisumi giggles, but it’s sad. “Should’ve known you’d notice,” he mutters.

Haru waits.

“Caught me off guard. It’s nothing.”

There’s still more.

“Ah, _Haru_ , would you relax? It was a fluke. It doesn’t matter,” Kisumi finally whirls around. His eyes are dull, but his smile is genuine. Haru kind of wants to kiss him.

He turns his head and frowns instead. “You were scared.”

“I wouldn’t call it _scared_ , Haru!” Kisumi narrows his eyes, offended. “Don’t look like that! Everyone has their jam and that’s just not mine, kay?”

Haru purses his lips in a thin line. “Kay,” he dismisses, braced for the kiss to his cheek Kisumi gives him. “Let me wash up and we’ll get out of here. I’ll do your back.”

“Well aren’t you sweet when you’re worried. I’m fine, Haru.”

“Whatever.”

It still takes Haru a second to reach out and rub a hand over his chest, gently turning him back around so he can fulfill his promise. He’s thorough but delicate, kneading his muscles with the bar of soap. It’s probably more therapeutic for him than it is for Kisumi, but definitely necessary to ease the tension between them. Kisumi kisses him again, resting their foreheads together for a brief moment.

“I never see you so fired up anymore. I’m glad you had a nice day.”

  
_Nice_ isn’t the word Haru would use. He’d aim more along the lines of _stressful_ or _bothersome_ , but chooses to ignore Kisumi in favour of drying off and packing up in silence. He’s hungry. Mackerel makes everything better.

But his escape is not so easy.

“Boys!” Seijurou calls as they step into the main lobby, and they reluctantly walk over. “Kisumi, you did great this morning. Little off this afternoon, but let’s call it fatigue, right? I’ll call you when I need you.”

Kisumi nods, taking the criticism without even a blink. He can be so stoic and serious when he doesn’t want to give anything away. He leaves quickly, waving behind him. It’s unsentimental and just what Haru needs, rather than the usual slather on the cheek he gets off him. He and Seijurou wait in silence as the door closes.

“And you, _well_ , don’t see you sparkle like that much these days! You and Sousuke _rocked_ it.”

“Hn.”

“You know I had you booked in for that photo shoot next Friday? Well… maybe we’ll switch it up a bit. What do you say?”

“Whatever.”

Haru is done. He just wants to go home. Get a meal and a proper bath. Just some _peace_. He weaves his way out the door with nods in all the right places in Sei’s blabber, and the fresh air is like a bath in itself, the light breeze blowing away the stuffy smell of sex that lingers permanently in the studio. He can finally clear his head.

The Studio is set on a pretty roughed up industrial estate, with a big decal sign in the window giving the nature of their business away (well, with the fact that it’s a _studio_ of some description, not that that makes Haru feel any better about it in the slightest). At least it’s inconspicuous enough to turn onto the main road. He could work in _any_ of the little outlets. No one has to know.

  
_Especially_ not his roommate. Nagisa is doing something devilishly delicate with a piping bag in the kitchen when Haru gets home. Usually, he’ll be tackled to the ground and forced to play video games or make cupcakes, but he’s apparently accomplished the latter all on his own today. Haru can have his mackerel when he’s not at risk of disturbing Nagisa’s concentration.

He retreats to his room. The bolt he put on the door after the first time Nagisa crawled in bed with him and wouldn’t leave has been a priceless investment. Nagisa seems to have no understanding that “platonic spooning” isn’t actually a common concept. And no, thunderstorms are no excuse when you’re twenty-two. He can make an exception for giant spiders on the ceiling at 2am when he can’t be bothered to evict the poor creature and Nagisa won’t stop squealing.

His second best investment is the memory foam topper on the cheap mattress. He’s ashamed to say it, but on his first few nights here, the lumpy beds at the studio would have been more comfortable to sleep on. He lies down, stretching out his arms and legs and back. Sousuke’s given him _quite_ the work out. But he’ll still have to follow through with his daily work out in a couple of hours. A come-shot’s just not the same if it’s not spilling out onto washboard abs, apparently.

Haru has too much free time and not enough hobbies, so their apartment is spectacularly clean (considering Nagisa lives here). He wouldn’t call it compulsive, but he’s become so accustomed to the order that he can’t help but give the little dolphin ornaments on his windowsill a wipe over while he waits for some kind of signal that it’s safe for him to venture back into the rest of the house.

The clattering of bakeware and a particularly violent sounding splash as Nagisa dumps all his used items into the sink should do it.

“Haru-chaaaaan!” he hears him call. “Come see what I made!”

“Coming,” Haru sighs.

He takes a Nagisa to the face as soon as he steps out. “And stop locking your door on me!”

  
_Learn what personal space is, and I’ll think about it_ , Haru thinks to himself as he’s dragged to the kitchen. Nagisa presents him with some _slightly_ wonky cupcakes, with scribbly, fat penguins piped on top.

“Did you use my food colouring?” Haru asks, quietly. He doesn’t really care, but Nagisa’s little pout amuses him.

“Ah…” he fumbles, nervous, waiting for a scolding of some kind.

“They’re good.”

“Not as good as those dolphin ones you did, though! I can’t pipe…”

Or bake, actually, but Haru chews without gagging just to make his friend feel better.

“I got paid today,” Haru declares when Nagisa comes out of his room the following Friday morning. “I can give you some for rent,” at long last.

 “Haru! You know it’s no bother. Weren’t you saving up?”

Haru nods, but fumbles with the wad in his pocket.

“You’re on groceries this week then, kay? And when did you do work? Haven’t things been a bit slow this month, for you?”

“Monday,” Haru shrugs.

“I always forget what you do…”

That’ll be because he’s never told him. “Just freelance. Nothing special.”

“Well as long as there’s no creepy drug dealers knocking at our door, I guess it’s not important,” Nagisa laughs, but doesn’t look too pleased with being brushed off yet again.

Haru wonders when the thought of drugs became somehow less worse than porn in his mind, and just finds himself frowning at the corner. Nagisa probably hasn’t even had a single fleeting idea it could be anything like this, was probably trying to make him feel _better_ by using the worst thing he could think of, but the effect is the opposite. He says nothing, and Nagisa doesn’t drag it out of him _tonight_ , but it’s probably only a matter of time before his suspicions make him worried. Haru doesn’t want to lose his friend over his bad life choices, but he wants even less to have to admit them aloud.

He has to leave.

The free local paper comes on Monday and Haru snaffles it into his room to circle the roommate ads and jot the numbers into his phone. He’d have rather avoided bunking with students, but it’s probably the only thing he can afford. Nagisa has been _more_ than generous, accepting not even a quarter of what he _should_ pay on this apartment every other month, sometimes less. Haru’s got enough saved up that he can probably get by with a couple of shoots a month.

There’s nothing much on the Jobs page that catches his eye. Lots of manual labour or man-with-a-van type deals, but nothing he’s actually qualified for, let alone interested in. He knows there’ll be more if he looks online, but the whole process is just so daunting. That, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he has another interviewer who’s seen his _other_ line of work.

He’s not sure if he prefers the ones who offer him the position in return for daily blow jobs, or the ones who go bright red at the sight of him, and then spiel off something that they can’t hurt the company’s reputation by having someone _like him_ working for them.

Someone like him. Someone _disgusting_.

He starts making calls on Tuesday when Nagisa is out on his adventures. The first place, the cheapest, has already been snapped up, and the second is populated by a gaggle of college girls. He politely declines. The third has a note on to not call until after dinner time, so Haru just has to hope Nagisa will still be off gallivanting by then. He likes the idea, though, of sharing a house with a person(s?) who doesn’t want to be disturbed until _after_ they’re in from work with a full tummy. Less pressure on Haru to hang out and be (gasp) _sociable_.

No such luck for Haru. Nagisa is home just in time to look expectantly from Haru to the kitchen in an endearingly obnoxious _hint_.

“Can we have pancakes, Haru-chan?” he asks in that sweet, childish voice he puts on when he wants something.

Haru, usually, obliges his dietary wishes, mostly because it’s Nagisa’s kitchen and he has to repay him for months of budget lodging _somehow_ , but tonight, Haru takes a gamble with something considerably quicker from the freezer.

“I can offer chicken drumsticks or fish-fingers. Take your pick,” he holds up the boxes. Nagisa looks suitably torn. Which is the lesser of two evils?

“Uhh, fish… but can we have mash?”

Haru nods. They have the microwavable stuff, after all.

“I’ll do the grocery run tonight?” he offers. Partly because they have no decent food, and partly (primarily) to make his call. “I’ll pick up something for dessert, too.”

“Aww! Can I come and help choose?” Nagisa bounces right in front of him, grinning in excitement.

“It’ll be a surprise,” Haru counters.

That scores him the win (but not the war). After they've eaten he makes a mental note of their bare fruit bowl and dilapidated vegetable drawer, pockets his cash, and escapes with a list of requests and a silent plea that Nagisa will do the dishes while he’s out. It’s not likely.

Groceries (including a fresh packet of mackerel) all bagged up, he makes his way to the community park which he knows will be deserted at this hour. All the kids have gone home for dinner and it’s too early for the teens to come and hang out on the swings as if they’re cool.

He’s nervous as the tone keeps ringing. Still too early? They’re taking their time…

“Hnng,” he gets when the phone is finally answered. Followed by a swallow and a breath. “Ah, sorry about that. Hello?”

The voice is soft. Haru feels considerably guilty for disturbing their meal time, but also… unafraid.

“I can call back, if you’re busy?” he offers. “It’s about the room?”

“No, no. It’s fine, we’re a little behind schedule anyway. It’s our fault, really. What’s your name?”

“Nanase Haruka,” he winces, forever conditioned into using his full name for anything even remotely _official_ , and sounding like a girl. The man on the phone laughs.

“Ah, I’m Tachibana Makoto. Did you see it in the paper?”

Haru nods, realises he’s on the phone, and hastily grunts an affirmative.

“Would you want to come for a little look around before we talk anymore about it? I don’t want you to feel obligated and then not like it...”

“Uh, sure?” Haru agrees. He’s so _polite_ it catches Haru off guard. “I just need something cheap and quick.”

Another voice takes the phone. “Sounds like a bad prostitute.”

“Rin!” it’s Makoto again, snatching back the phone from the other housemate(?) and apologising sincerely to Haru. “Don’t mind him! Sometimes he thinks he’s funny… I’ll take you off speaker.”

Haru waits for a second, listening to the sound of a door closing and an affectionate sigh as Makoto removes himself from Rin’s interruptions.

“We’re both free all day Saturday, but for evenings it’ll likely just be Rin at home. Matsuoka Rin. And I suppose you couldn’t come in the morning… work…”

“I’m flexible,” Haru interrupts. “Freelance,” that’s it. There’s the old lie again. His safety net.

“Oh, ok. As soon as possible, then? Let’s say… ten tomorrow?”

Haru nods, is _still_ on the phone, and mentally slaps himself. “Sure.”

Now he just needs to figure out how to tell Nagisa he’s moving out.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Haru frowns at his phone. He still has another sixteen minutes until he needs to get out of bed. He’s confused. Makoto is talking like Haru actually knows where Sakura Street _is_. Being as dedicated as he is to not leaving the house more often than necessary, he has absolutely no idea. Makoto probably expected some kind of responsible thing like say, Google Maps. Whoops.

Asking Nagisa is out of the question, but he does have _one_ failsafe fall back up his sleeve. His clingy Kisumi is the kind of guy who replies in a _second_ , especially if it’s someone he _likes_. Haru’s seen him blush and cover his phone screen a thousand times when he’s gotten a message from his latest crush. He feels arrogant to think it, but he’s not naïve enough to disregard those lingering smiles Kisumi always gives him, or how sweet and genuine those kisses are.

 

 

 

Always reliable, but always, _always_ clingy. It’d be cute if Haru wouldn’t get so damn worried about the kid becoming thoroughly _attached_ to him. And after last week, he wants Kisumi to get out of this job even more than he wants to himself. The kid’s so sensitive, but he hides it so well under all those giggles and moans.

He hovers in bed but catches his alarm before it goes off. Even though he’s awake, that perfect sleepiness that only comes when one _has_ to get up washes over him, and has a half rational thought that Nagisa stumbling upon a picture of Haru with a dick in his mouth can’t possibly be _worse_ than the prospect of getting out of bed, can it?

Realising it’s literally the last thing he ever wants to happen, he shocks himself into a sitting position. He hadn’t realised the place was _quite_ so far away, but ten minutes should be enough to pee and pull pants on. He can eat later. He’s a little too nervous to stomach anything just yet.

The walk is flat, so at least he has that going for him, and the tide is in so he can watch the breaths of the sea with the roll of the waves, and time his own to them. He’s calm. It’s just a house. He can do this.

Number Three, as Makoto promised, is right at the top of the stairs. It’s convenient, but probably annoying to have people coming past the windows all the time. The front door is ornate and traditional – the general style of the house. It’s an old place. Nothing like the modern apartment block set ups he’s been in and out of since he left home, but more like… home.

He gives the door a tentative knock.

“Just a second!” he hears Makoto call, followed by heavy, thudding footsteps towards the door.

It swings open with such a gentle arc that Haru expects a delicate little frame to be stood in front of him, but… _nope_. This is the kind of guy who’s _definitely_ Kisumi’s type. Tall, broad, uh, Sousuke shaped. But with a much softer face and an unruly muss of hair that rivals Haru’s own. Kind eyes.

“Uh, hey, Nanase Haruka, right?” Makoto asks, surprisingly shy for someone with so much presence.

“Haru,” Haru nods. If they’re going to be sharing a bathroom in the hopefully not-too-distant future, he’s rolling with skipping the formalities.

“Just call me Makoto, then.” He squints when he smiles. Aw. “Come in, come in. I’ll show you around.”

Haru kicks his shoes off at the door, Makoto smiling like he wasn’t expecting it. Haru’s glad he got new shoes recently… the others aren’t that pleasant at this point. There’s lots of wood in the entry way – still very, very traditional, but there’s a fancy fish tank on a little glass table at the bottom of the stairs, so at least they don’t live like it’s the dark ages. Though Haru’s hopes of them having no internet access are shattered by the little router blinking away on the table as soon as he enters the lounge

Makoto leads him through, and it’s so obvious that this is such a cozy little _home_ for him and Rin. Not the kind of dingy unit where someone moves in or out every other month.

“Sorry it’s a little cluttered,” Makoto blushes. “I tried making it neater before you arrived, but… not my forte, I guess.”

If Makoto ever met Nagisa, he might think more of his cleaning skills. Sure, there’s a sock escaped the hamper on the kitchen floor in front of the washer, but it’s so… _normal_.

“This would be your room,” Makoto lets Haru into the door first, upstairs and to the right. “It’s technically the master but… well we had Rin’s sister here for a while and thought it better for her to have her own bathroom and stuff. More closet space – it’s a walk-in. So we just got used to the other room. When we upgraded the kitchen we put the old fridge and microwave in the closet too. Just one of those little fridge/freezers that goes under the counter but… well, it gives you your own space, if you want it.”

Haru nods, eyes frozen on the window. The rest of the room could be upside down in comparison to this _view_.

“Oh, yeah, and you can see the sea. Nice, huh?”

But then something clicks.

“Why is it so cheap?” Haru doesn’t _mean_ to sound so defensive, but when has anything _ever_ seemed so perfect in his life without going tits – uh – balls up?

Makoto laughs. “Well, it’s just a room. We can’t have you paying half the mortgage on _rent_. It just seemed a shame to let it go to waste if someone else needed it.”

Haru’s still suspicious, but Makoto is showing him to the lounge again to sit down for some tea and… fairy cakes?

“Rin’s offering, since he couldn’t be here,” Makoto smiles, again. The cakes have green icing and cherry blossoms. “He doesn’t even like cake. Oh well, more for me! Help yourself.”

Haru does. He could do better. But it’s nowhere near as toxic as Nagisa’s attempt.

“So _freelance_! Wow, that must be tough sometimes!”

“It’s… well, you know,” Haru sways his head side to side, Makoto nodding along as if he’s actually explained anything. “What about you?”

“Fire fighter, but more in the educational side, you know? Going into schools and teaching about safety. But I’m sometimes on call at night, for an emergency. But I’ll try not to disturb you – if, if you end up taking the room, that is.”

The goody two shoes type… It _could_ be the perfect kind of setup for a trick. Lulling Haru into a false sense of security. But Haru’s oddly at ease. Maybe it’s just the feel of the house, but his general demeanour has been mellowed out since he stepped through the door. It feels… safe.

“Rin?” he asks. He’s aware Makoto’s done _all_ of the talking so far, and something inside him wants to make a better attempt at a good impression than he’s currently doing.

“Police. He can seem a bit…gnarly sometimes but… he’s the kind of guy who…” Makoto’s blushing, stumbling over words and twirling another cake in his hand.

“The kind of guy who makes cup-cakes. Your...?” he trails off his question, letting Makoto fill in the blank.

"We're a couple, yeah. Since highschool. I hope that doesn't bother you?"

Haru shakes his head and Makoto’s laugh sings through the room, and Haru, for the first time in months, let’s his poker face relax and smiles along with him. If he lets out a giggle, Makoto doesn’t let on, and he’s glad.

 

Haru’s honed his cat like reflexes for defending his personal space, and quickly catches Nagisa before he can completely latch onto him, bounding up like he’s been sitting and waiting in front of the door like a dog pining for Haru to come home since he left that morning.

“Off,” Haru scolds, gently supporting his weight while he disentangles.

“But you left so _early_! I was _worried_!”

“Just because it’s before noon doesn’t mean it’s _early_.”

“You skipped breakfast.”

Haru finally gets Nagisa back to the floor. This was a ploy all along. He should have known. He sighs.

“What would you like for lunch?”

“Hmmmmm, waffles?!”

“That sounds like breakfast to me,” Haru marches him to the table in the hopes he’ll sit down and be still.

“Brunch, then,” Nagisa retorts.

He’s pleased enough with his argument to leave Haru well enough alone. He already has a batch of batter in the fridge that’s still good, so it’s a pretty quick dish to whip up. Bacon and sausage make a nice topping, giving them both some much needed energy. Not that they really need pumping up. All that’s on the agenda for the rest of the day seems to be TV time.

Haru would usually retreat to his room, but instead he joins Nagisa on the couch, tugging the blanket Nagisa likes to wrap up in over his knees.

“You alright, Haru-chan?” Nagisa looks over. He’s so much quieter when he slips into this serious tone. The contrast between this and his hyperactivity could give Haru whiplash.

He nods, just once.

“If you say so… anything you wanna talk about?”

“Um…” Makoto’s insisted he sleep on his decision, _‘I don’t want you to feel obligated!’_ but Haru’s more than certain it’s the perfect little place for him.

Getting Nagisa contented and comfortable has only served to heighten his sensitivity to Haru’s mood, and now he’s probably got some suspicions. Telling him is going to be hard _whenever_ he does it, but it might be nice to get it out of the way and then spend the rest of the week enjoying their time together.

“I… went to look at a room today.”

Nagisa’s eyes go from soothing to confused. “A room?”

“It’s nearer to work… and it’s by the beach.”

“Oh… So you… want to move out?”

Haru nods.

“Is it… something I did? Am I a bad roommate? What’s wrong, Haru-chan?”

“Nothing. It’s just closer to work. I feel like it would make things easier for both of us… And you could finally sort something out with Rei if you’re not worrying about me.”

“I _always_ worry about you, Haru!”

“I know. You don’t need to. I’m fine.”

Hiding the truth is one thing, telling a blatant lie to Nagisa is another entirely. He can see right through him. Haru sees his frown, sees him thinning it out into a forced smile.

“Right, Haru-chan.”

Haru isn’t fine.

The tension in the lounge ebbs away after a while, the air clearing to allow them to slip back into a forced normality.

“So when do you leave, Haru-chan?” Nagisa asks, more brightly.

“Friday. I have an appointment with a client on Friday, too.”

“Work is picking up, then? That’s good, Haru!”

Is it, really?

“So, is it all secret stuff you do? Are you a spy, Haru-chan?”

Haru snorts. “Don’t be silly.”

“I bet it’s something arty. You’re into that, right?”

Well, some people call it _art_.

“You can tell me, Haru-chan. Whatever it is,” Haru shakes his head. “Do you enjoy it?”

“No,” his answer is immediate. There’s a certain relief that comes with the honesty.

“I worry, Haru. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

Haru’s not.

 

He packs the next night, wrapping his dolphin ornaments into newspaper while Nagisa lounges on his bed, chatting mindlessly into the void. It’s nice company.

“Are they nice people?” Nagisa asks.

“Mm, seem so. I’ll get you over for dinner, maybe.”

“Sleepovers?!”

“Don’t push it,” Haru flicks his forehead.

"But you're my best friend!"

"I know," Haru says simply. I think I'm done, apart from some clothes for this week... Do you want me to order us pizza?"

Whatever sadness Nagisa was about to slip into is easily ebbed away at the mention of food.

 

Wednesday evening finds Haru forced to sit with most of Nagisa's legs sprawling out over his lap as he's pinned to watch episode after episode of Nagisa's new favourite show. It's not really that bad, but he'll never live it down if he doesn't maintain this _bored_ , so he does his best to keep the lid on his laughter. Nagisa scolds him when his phone vibrate.

 

 

Haru frowns at his phone. How's he supposed to just suddenly announce to Nagisa he's staying for another night? Especially when they've both _just_ accepted that tomorrow night will be their last. He just about manages his simple reply, but really, he has no idea what he's going to do.

 

There are only two people in Haruka's life who do not believe that waking him at the crack of dawn is a crime. One of them is asleep, mostly on top of him, so the only other culprit is -

" _Kisumi_ ," he groans into the phone as he rolls out of bed, heading to the bathroom to lock himself out of Nagisa's earshot. "Do you even know what time it is?"

Kisumi's silent for a second. "Haru, its like 10:30..."

"I don't see you your point."

And then Kisumi bursts into laughter so loud Haru has to hold the phone away, before finally calming down into just a chuckle. "Well I was just wondering if you're up to anything tomorrow afternoon. I think we both finish at the same time, so I was thinking... we could... hang out?"

His voice is... _off_ , somehow, but Haru's too tired to question it. Instead, he sits heavily down on top of the toilet seat, leaning over his knees. It's either the sleep deprivation or the mild hangover, but Kisumi's companionship comforts him right now. He's so easy to talk to. Just _gets_ Haru and doesn't question it.

"Well... I was supposed to be moving into my place, but they've pushed me back a day. Work stuff. I might see if Sei will just let me crash in one of the studios."

Kisumi gasps. "Haru!! I have _a better idea!!_ Come to my place! We can have a sleepover!"

"...Sleepover?"

"Crunchyroll and chill, you know?! It'll be _great!_ "

It's definitely the sleep deprivation talking, because for some reason, Haru agrees.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because fuck anon hate. I'll write what I want.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is worth the wait.

Nagisa is supposedly helping Haru get his bags out to the car, but the way he's clutching the satchel with Haru's art bits in is like he's holding it hostage. Luckily, Haru knows how to negotiate. He holds out his hand for the bag, and lets the other hang just far enough in front of him to welcome Nagisa in. He'll do just about anything for a hug from Haru.

"I don't want you to go!" he whines. Haru sighs.

"You know you want your own space back. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that, right?"

Nagisa sniffs and squeezes around Haru's waist. The taxi driver rolls his eyes and Haru finally breaks free. It’s not a taxi trip he usually takes, preferring to walk (and duck down a thousand short cuts instead of being seen on the main road). He thanks whatever’s in fashion this week for the high population of foreign taxi drivers and the fact that this one doesn’t seem too fluent in his own language, let alone Haru’s. No dodgy questions.

His name is on a post-it note on his usual dressing room door, as well as Asahi, who Haru only knows exists because of Kisumi’s crush on him last month. But after a scene together, he’d had Kisi on the phone for an hour whining about the list of requirements the guy had while filming. Even Haru was appalled. He’s never heard of such a vanilla porn actor.

But he’s not filming with Asahi, he’s off elsewhere. In fact it’s just pictures today, which in a way is simpler, but it’s so long and tedious and a pain on his arms to have to hover his ass above the ground while there’s ten different dildos going in and out of it, each increasing in size. And the lace garter belt is itchy.

 

“Hey,” there’s a grunt in the bathroom while Haru’s taking his piss break, and Haru glances over to see Sousuke opening up his robe.

“I hear I’m with you next,” is all Haru says.

“Pictures are boring.”

“Make it fun, then.”

Sousuke’s laugh is mischievous, but it’s not like Kisumi’s. There’s a dark edge to it, but Haru’s not _threatened_ , he’s intrigued. Excited.

Sousuke flops down onto the black leather love seat Haru is the only who makes sure is kept hygienic. He rolls his eyes past Sei and fixes them on Haru, who waits for a thumbs up. It doesn’t come until Nitori has gotten up close between Sousuke’s legs to get a final picture of his bulge.

“Get in his lap, dolphin boy,” Sei tells him. He’s sat in his chair with an obvious semi. Looks like someone else gets excited over Sousuke too.

Haru goes to straddle Sousuke’s knees, before he grabs his waist and he’s been flipped around. Haru’s ass presses into his bulge, and he spreads his own legs wide.

“Is this fun?” Sousuke whispers, hot into Haru’s ear.

_Yup._

But he’s not gonna tell him that. They pause to pose for the picture and follow the instructions. It’s another Sousuke Special, a double page spread of him being pampered for the monthly magazine. As far as Haru knows, he’s gonna end up with his face painted white at the end of it, and he’ll be left hanging. Because that’s how photo shoots go. Sousuke teases at his cock with his hand, gripping it, but lacking that pressure to make Haru squirm.

Sousuke’s cock barely fits in his mouth. It’s long and fat and though there’s no pressure to get it to the back of his throat, Haru’s really wishing he could. Sousuke’s hand pushes the back of his head, up and down, and Nitori takes an extra second to get a snap of the fingers threaded through his hair. They cover every angle before Sei calls time on the money shot.

The door to the studio creaks open while they re position. Sousuke on his knees and Haru in front, lying on his back, mouth open and tongue out, touching the head of his cock. And Kisumi, draping himself over Sei’s shoulder’s in the corner of Haru’s eye.

Sousuke starts to jerk himself into Haru’s waiting mouth. Haru knows he’s been pretending to not be on the edge for quite some time now, but Nitori is right up close with the high speed setting to get the spray across Haru’s lips.

“Want me to finish you off?” Sousuke hums into his gear, still breathy and gasping.

He does. He definitely does. But before he can say anything, Kisumi reminds him he’s there with a little wave.

“Or does someone else want that honour?” Sousuke chuckles a laugh and slaps Haru’s thigh, leaving him on the floor.

Haru reaches for the baby wipes to at least clean up his face so he can get to his dressing room. Kisumi is holding out his hand when Haru moves to stand up.

“Well you look like you had fun,” Kisumi smirks, leaning in for what Haru expects to be a kiss to the cheek.

Or to lick some stray cum off his face. He wrinkles his nose.

“And _you_ ,” Haru looks him up and down. He’s never seen him in a _shirt_ before. And is that cardigan _cashmere_? “look like you’ve got a hot date. I thought you were hanging out with me tonight.”

He does his best to sound jealous, making Kisumi blush and cringe and squirm is possibly one of Haru’s favourite things about working with him.

“Oh, and maybe I _won’t_ take you out for dinner then,” Kisumi squeezes around his (still naked) waist as Haru fumbles with the chunky dressing room handle.

“You don’t have to do that anyway,” Haru chastises. “It should be me treating you.”

“Oh please. I know you’re skint. Nothing _fancy_ , just... there’s a little cafe in the train station? Can’t go wrong with a toastie and a milkshake. And we fix something up ourselves later.”

Haru finishes pulling his clothes on and turns around with a sigh. He knows he can’t win, not against those puppy eyes. “Fine. But as soon as I get some spare cash, it’s my turn. And don’t think I won’t go _fancy_.”

“You’re cute.”

Kisumi leans in for an actual kiss, just a peck on Haru’s lips , and Haru half expects him to hang around being hugged before they can get off. But Kisumi’s clearly embarrassed. His crush is too obvious and it can’t be so easy for him, considering how much sex they have.

 

Full and content, Kisumi reaches the top shelf of the cargo space on the train to stash Haru’s things. It’s pretty packed, with the only seats being neither together or anywhere near the baggage, so they choose to stand in the aisle. Unfortunately, so does everyone who gets on at the next station. They’re squashed in like sardines. Haru has one of the wheels from someone’s suitcase rammed into the crack of his ass. They’re all loud and smelly and the only place Haru can look without making awkward eye contact with someone who might _know_ him is down.

“Hey,” Kisumi whispers. The hand on his shoulder is light. “Don’t do crowds, huh?”

“Not my favourite thing in the world,” Haru manages to grunt.

Kisumi fumbles, like he wants to do more, but there’s that line they haven’t figured out yet. They’re _friends_ , sure, but how well do they really know each other? How often do they hang out away from the studio and their dressing room? How often do they speak to each other when it doesn’t revolve around work? Maybe, Haru thinks, they can work on that in this new place. Kisumi can come over as a friend and it won’t make a difference to Makoto and Rin. They won’t care like Nagisa would.

 

"You didn't tell me you lived with your family," Haru says cautiously as Kisumi points out his Dad's new BMW he won't let Kisumi practice his driving in.

"Oh? Why, you wanted some _alone time?_ " Kisumi waggles his eyebrows, keys paused in the lock of the door.

Haru frowns. "Just don't want to make things awkward. For you."

"What?" Kisumi opens the door. "My parents know all about the porn. No worries. I talk about you all the time, they'll be glad to meet you!"

Kisumi's halfway down the hallway before he realises Haru isn't behind him and turns, holding out his hand. Haru shakes his head, bites his lip, and grips the handle on his bag till his knuckles turn white. Kisumi opens his mouth to say something, but he's cut off by the thudding of feet on the stairs to his left.

"Kisu-chan!" it's obviously his mother, and she whips her head to look right at Haru. "And this must be your friend! Honestly, Kisumi, help him with his bags. I'm sorry, dear," she adds to Haru, coming forwards and setting a soft hand on his shoulder. "I raised him better than this I swear."

"Love you too!" Kisumi quips and kisses her cheek from behind. "Come on, Haru. I promise it's okay."

Unfortunately, Haru can hardly say _no_ when he's literally being dragged down the hall and into the lounge, leaving Kisumi to deal with his case and holdall.

"Shigino-san," Haru makes a cursory bow. "I'm so sorry to intrude."

"Nonsense, nonsense! Here, here, let me take your backpack and your jacket... Kisumi!" she summons her son, thrusting Haru's things at him absently with one hand, the other still fussing over Haru, getting him pushed into a comfy seat on the couch. Kisumi disappears upstairs. "It's so nice to have Kisumi bringing friends home for once. All that boy does is study, I tell you!"

_Study and screw_ , Haru wants to mutter, but he's silenced by basic decency and just this absolute whirlwind of a woman, who produces a tea tray faster than Haru's ever seen, and then Kisumi is back in the room with a mini-me on his shoulders.

"And please, call me Kimiko, just Kimi if you prefer."

Haru nods politely, looking expectantly at Kisumi as he swings the kid down to the floor, both of them laughing. But then the little boy spots Haru and promptly grabs onto his brother(?)'s hand.

"This is Hayato, my baby brother," Kisumi crouches down next to the child, arm around him for a comforting squeeze. "He can be a little shy. Haru's my friend, Hayato. I promise he's super nice!"

"It's nice to meet you," Hayato says in barely more than a whisper. Kisumi hugs him again for his manners and lets him go to run off to the kitchen.

"Dad won't be home for a while. This will have brewed by now?" Kisumi asks about the tea. Haru nods.

All he really wants is for Kisumi to plonk down next to him and for the whole house to go calm and still and quiet. Even the walls seem to have this energy rolling off in waves. Finally, Kisumi hands over a teacup and grabs the TV controllers from the armchair across the room, tucking himself up next to Haru, knees all curled up and leaning into Haru's side.

"There's this sports anime I've been meaning to catch up on, unless you want to watch something else?" Kisumi tilts up to ask his question, _just_ within that space that teases for a kiss that doesn't come. Haru doesn't care what they watch. He's still somewhat in shock. "And I have an essay to work on but... let's chill for a bit. Just one episode?"

"I really don't mind," Haru mumbles.

Kisumi seems pleased and snuggles into him more, nudging at Haru's arm until he's forced it around his back. His show seems to be halfway through a season already and Haru has such little understanding of basketball that he pays no attention anyway. Kisumi's far too carefree in his cashmere, all cuddled up like he's pretending they're on the back-row of the cinema. Haru half expects him to try and steal a kiss with the way he keeps looking up at him with those big purple eyes, but he doesn't. In fact, he's being so innocent and (dare he say it) _sweet_ that Haru's honestly missing him crawling all up in his lap like a little puppy. But he's subdued, calm and comfortable and content.

Although, his noise of defiance lets Haru know he's still his same-old self when the credits roll on his show. Apparently he's not the type to bother with watching next week's preview.

 

He leads him upstairs by the hand, palms cupped gently but he's all sweaty and blushing and making awkward little words that mean nothing.

"The bathroom's across from the top of the stairs, Hayato's is that one, and this one's _mine_ ," Kisumi grins, if it wasn't already obvious from the Whinnie the Pooh characters spelling out his name with balloons on his door.

"Cute," Haru nods.

"Mum and Dad have their own suite in the attic," Kisumi continues, turning away even though Haru can still see his bright red ears and neck. "Come on in."

He lets Haru in first, and he honestly expects to see his grade school decorating still in full bloom, judging from the door, but the dark purple carpet and metallic black feature wall are all really rather chic. Although... the same can't be said for his bed. A high frame with not enough space between the pillow and the ceiling (that everyone in junior high just _had_ to have) with a swiveling armchair and a desk and chair set up under it. The TV on the black wall is at a funky angle for both the bed and the chair, but it's a top-spec new model, as are the game consoles on the shelf.

"I see you spend your earnings well," Haru snorts.

"Nah, I got these as gifts. Christmas and birthdays, ya know? Bed's the same since I was a kid though. Hayato's _desperate_ for me to hand it down. But he won't trade me for his race-car bed!"

"Your family's nice."

"Yeah! They're so cool with us - go on, sit - and we've always been really close. I can tell them anything."

"Lucky."

Kisumi makes a worried face at Haru's passive comment but let's it slide, holding onto the giant puffy chair and rocking it gently side-to-side, like he's soothing. He sets Haru up on a game chosen at random for the name (there's water in it!) and takes to the spinny computer chair to work on his essay.

"Do you want... soda or anything?" he asks, fussing.

"I'm fine."

"I won't be long on this..."

Haru sighs. "Kisumi..."

Kisumi squirms, still looking for something to say to smooth them into this transitional period of Haru not-gaming and Kisumi trying to work, and then Haru notices the gas-lever on his chair and lifts it with his foot, dropping Kisumi till he's barely off the ground, long legs so bunched up his knees are at his ears.

"Har _uuu!_ "

"Relax. It's just me."

Kisumi's face changes from a pout to a frown to a worried mess within the space of a second until he takes a deep breath and leans forward, nudging Haru's temple with his nose so he looks up at him. Haru lets him have his kiss, feeling that cheeky smile against his lips when Kisumi calms down after a second. Haru spins away, nudging Kisumi back towards his desk, and the silence that ensues is his favourite kind.

 

They end up joining the rest of Kisumi’s family for supper. Haru feels about five, going round to Nagisa’s after swim practice for pizza. But it’s nice. The food is good, a hearty homemade meal he hasn’t experienced in a _whiiile_. And Haru even manages to enjoy the conversation. Even if he doesn’t speak much.

“Kisumi tells us you’re moving house, Haruka,” Kimiko says in that awkward after-dinner pause before it’s deemed appropriate to leave the table.

“Just a room,” Haru answers. “It’s a nice place.”

“Sakura Street?” Kisumi pipes up.

“ _Oh!_ That _is_ nice! We were looking to move there, before I found out I was having Hayato.”

“Old houses, pretty small,” his dad nods in agreement. “Can you see the ocean from yours?”

Haru nods. “It’s right at the top of those stairs. My room has the best view.”

“I can come visit, right?” Kisumi begs, leaning towards Haru.

“They work funny hours, so we’ll see,” Haru sighs.

“That’s absolutely a yes,” Kisumi grins. He holds Haru’s hand under the table, blushing.

They’re still chatting when Hayato has been taken up for a bath, and while Kisumi is clearing the dishes, Haru is left alone with his father.

“I, uh, wanted to ask you a question, if you don’t mind?” he asks. Haru blinks. Here it comes... “Kisumi was upset when he came home the other day. We support his decisions but... We don’t want him doing anything he doesn’t want.”

“I agree.”

“Hey, why are you looking all serious,” Kisumi scolds, returning.

He drapes himself over Haru’s shoulders. “Grown up talk, kid,” Haru quips. Kisumi kisses his cheek. “Hey-”

“Are we all right to head up, Dad?” Kisumi asks, ignoring Haru.

He smiles and agrees, waving them off while he moves to the lounge.

 

Kisumi, done with his school work, has decided it’s cuddle time. He pushes Haru into the chair, straddling his lap, and comes down for a kiss.

“Is this ok?” he whispers.

Haru almost wants to laugh. “It’s not like we’ve not done it before.”

“But this... it’s not... work.”

“It’s just me, Kisi.”

“And I know you didn’t get to finish with Sou earlier.”

He’s kissing him now, but it’s still tentative, still waiting for Haru to _prove_ that he wants it. Haru’s not sure if he really _does_ , but he wants Kisumi to be happy.

“Time to get that shirt off,” he decides out loud. He does like the shirt, though. A lilac that matches his eyes. He undoes each button delicately, dragging it down from his shoulders. There are love bites on his chest that aren’t from him. He feels guilty for not being jealous, but makes his own to hear Kisumi moan into his ear.

It doesn’t take long until they’re both naked but for Kisumi’s kitten socks. Haru’s ass has had enough punishment for one day, so he has a lubed finger in Kisumi’s, kissing him as he moves up and down.

“Sei never lets you fuck me,” he moans.

“Sei’s not here,” Haru scolds, kissing him. “Just me and you.”

“You’re all mine,” he’s absolutely ready now. Cock hard and leaking on Haru’s front.

He lifts his ass upwards and pulls back down on his hips, slipping effortlessly inside him. Kisumi’s so flexible, it’s a wonder he’s always the top. He can sway his hips around Haru’s dick like he’s never felt before. It’s honestly been so long since Haru’s been inside anyone that he’s a little embarrassed at how quickly he’s feeling the need to cum. Kisumi can tell, too, and _squeezes_ his ass muscles around him, sending him over.

“God, you’re good at that,” Haru praises. “Come on, your turn.”

Kisumi’s sweaty and panting and so malleable for Haru to push into the seat and get on his knees in front of him. It doesn’t take him long, either. Haru squeezes onto the chair with him, legs over his lap, and Kisumi’s head comes down to his shoulder. The stillness is unusual, something they’ve never had before. There’s this bubble in his gut he can’t explain, like worry. Like regret. He kisses Kisumi’s head and hopes he doesn’t notice.


	5. Chapter 5

Compared to how bloody hot he’s been all night, crammed into the single sized bed with Kis, Haru wakes up feeling oddly cold. That’ll be because he has a thousand times more room than he did last night. The metal ladder is cold on his feet as he climbs down, but it’s a nice surprise to find his clothes folded neatly on the chair. The bathroom is free for his morning leak. He hadn’t seen it properly in the dim lighting last night, but it’s all covered in little dolphin decals in a pattern on the square white tiles. Even the shower curtain and bath mat have dolphins on them.

He can hear the chattering and Kisumi’s sing-song laughter coming from Hayato’s room and decides to peek his head around the door.

“For some reason I always took you for an early bird,” Kisumi notices him immediately. “We’ve been waiting for _aaages_ to go and play on the VR, haven’t we, buddy?”

Hayato just nods. Haru’s _usually_ up pretty early, and even now he wouldn’t consider it _late_... he’s just been outdone slightly by a five year old. And that’s just fine by him.

“You ever seen one of these? I got it for my 18th from the ‘rents. Here, Hayato, let me strap it on for you.”

Haru’s not seen the contraption in person before, but oh the lectures he’s had on the thing when he’s been left along in the same room as Nagisa’s boyfriend Rei. He’s spent every Friday evening for the last 6 months pretending to listen to _this_ new feature or _that_ new upgrade and none of it’s even made a dent on him.

Except...

“Uh, wasn’t it only released in April?”

“Oh, wow, not such a technophobe then, huh? Yeah, there was a model before this but it was just like a tester? Kind of a flop, but this one actually _works_.”

“No. Uh. Kisumi...” he counts again in his head just to be sure. “We’ve been working together since last summer.”

The silence stretches out with Kisumi staring as he realises what he’s said. There’s a flash of fear over his face that Haru wants to do something to stop but he can’t.

Hayato can’t hear them over the sound of his game, but Kisumi can’t let go of his shoulders lest he flail and stumble with the mask on his head. He looks down at his brother, refusing to look Haru in the face.

“Nobody knows. Not my family, not Sei... and if you could pretend you didn’t, that’d be great,” he grunts.

“Just tell me why,” Haru’s memories flash. He’s seeing all those little habits he should have recognised as a _high school kid_ rather than a college student. Just his schedule alone should have sent alarm bells ringing.

“Money,” Kisumi shrugs like it’s obvious. “I don’t want to be in debt after university, I don’t want to put my parents into debt, and... they’re old enough that Hayato could be their _grandkid._ They shouldn’t have to deal with that when he gets to my age.”

It’s too hard to consider. On the one hand... it’s just six months difference between being legal and Haru being a pedophile. He feels like it shouldn’t matter but it _does_. Morals or some shit. He feels betrayed, in a sense, as if he should have been let in on this sooner. And he feels dirty. So wrong and so, so dirty.

Kisumi’s taken his hand while he’s been too distracted to notice and he squeezes down on it.

“All right. Reasons are reasons. It doesn’t matter. I thought... I think everyone thought, you were maybe at least 20...”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kisumi agrees.

Something clicks. “You’re inexperienced. That’s why... when we were with Yamazaki... and you were...” he’d thought he was maybe just out of his comfort zone, but now he’s realising the truth, “scared. I get it now.”

“It doesn’t _matter, Haru._ ”

“No. It does. And I’m sorry I didn’t stop it when I saw you weren’t right.”

“Just leave it. Not here, not now. Not with him,” Kisumi glances his eyes down at Hayato, obliviously punching thin air with the controls.

“I’ll call my cab, then,” Haru decides, dropping his hand.

Kisumi recoils. “Wait... no. Are you... are we...” he gulps. Haru sighs.

“We’re fine. Text me if you need me. For _anything_ , got it?”

“You’re cute.” Kisumi slinks forward, one hand still on Hayato and the other aiming for Haru’s waist, head coming towards his shoulder. He whispers something with his face pressed into Haru’s neck.

It’s definitely time to leave.

 

 

Rin can’t tell which one of them is more of a nervous wreck, waiting for this kid to show up. At least Makoto’s _met_ the guy before, texted him and stuff, but Rin? Nope. Rin’s flying blind. They’ve got the telly so low to listen for his arrival that they have to have subtitles. Not that they’re watching it anyway. Makoto keeps getting up to go into the spare room - Haruka’s new room - checking all the little things he’s put in to make it _homey_. He’s never considered spending so much money on all those little things for someone he doesn’t know. They’ve got him new pillows and a quilt and sheets (Makoto thinks he likes blue). Even a dinner set with matching cutlery for when he’s just using the microwave in his room.

Why couldn’t Rin’s first rental have been like this? All he remembers is trying to dodge angry abuse from the old couple down the hall from his “apartment”. It was just a room with an ensuite and a fridge. Just like what they’re giving Haru. Yet he’s still paying back his student loan for it.

Haru’s not a student though. He’s working, sort of. Rin’s not sure what this “freelance” thing really entails but that’s usually artists and stuff, right? He’s younger than they are, but only by a couple of years. When they’d put the add out he’d had all these visions of taking someone in just out of high school. He could be a big brother all over again, get them on their own two feet but...

This is better. Much less scary. Much less responsibility. And as long as he’s not a freelance drug dealer, Rin shouldn’t have too much to worry about.

“Has he said what colour car it is?” Rin asks when Makoto comes back to the couch.

Makoto checks his phone. He always has the fucking thing on silent. “Ooh. It’s a black EZ’s taxi. I’ve told him to go round to the driveway already.”

Of course, because oh-so courteous Makoto has moved both of their cars onto the street in the cul-de-sac so there’s plenty of room for them to get Haru’s things out of the car and take it in through the back of the house. Haru doesn’t have a car, and Rin has to assume he doesn’t have a licence either. But they do have a couple of under-loved bikes in the garage he can most certainly borrow.

Look at him. Such a bloody sap.

“Oop, I think he could be pulling in now. He’s said he’s on the street.” Makoto gets up, holding out a hand to pull Rin along with him. “Let’s meet them outside.”

They can see the car slowing cruising towards them, both Haru and the driver looking for the house number in the weird maze of the backs of houses. Rin sees Haru point out the driveway and the car reverses into it. Makoto abandons his side to race to the passenger door, practically hauling him out and into a hug like they’ve been best friends for years. He can’t even expect anything less from Makoto.

Haru slips free and nods an acknowledgment at Rin. He and Makoto set about pulling his large case and a few bags out onto the drive so the taxi can leave but Rin is... transfixed. He’s so _familiar_. From his hair so black it could be blue and a face that he can only describe as _pretty_ , even down to the way his legs are sucked in by what looks to be leggings. He _knows_ him, definitely. His name was nowhere to be found in the background check he maybe shouldn’t have run but did anyway because hey who wants a murderer in their house. But that face??? And dare he say that _body_???

But where from?? He’d remember him from his old dating days, surely, so he can’t be a forgotten one-night-stand. Not school... he’s too young.

Ah, fuck it. He’ll just be some kid who served him at the store once or something. Maybe someone in the background if he’s been in a club, at most. Yeah. That’ll be it.

“Uh... Rin?” Makoto cocks his head expectantly, a little confused, and Rin jumps to attention.

“Sorry, sorry. Uh, Haruka, hi. I’m Rin.” he offers his hand.

There’s not even a blip of recognition on the kid’s face, but he shakes his hand and smiles. It’s forced, probably nervous. “Just Haru. And... thanks again for...” he casts his eyes up to the house instead of finishing his sentence, but that’s ok.

Makoto throws his arms around both of their shoulders, wedging himself in the middle with a big grin on his face. “We both hope you’ll be very happy here, Haru. Come on, let’s get you inside and we’ll get the kettle on.”

Rin takes the big case and the holdall, not that he’s anxious to get away or anything but he feels like... like he’s making things awkward. Makoto is chatting Haru’s ear off behind him, each just carrying a small bag, and Haru’s making the odd grunt in response. Kinda like how Rin has to talk to Makoto, too. Never gets a word in.

They take the couch and Rin hides in the kitchen with the breakfast dishes. Haru’s even contributing sentences now. Something about art. His work? Rin’s not a clue. He should probably slink back in there before Makoto comes to find him.

“Rin, honey?” Makoto calls. Well, too late to not arouse suspicion.

“Coming,” he calls back. He dries his hands and takes a breath and finally invades the lounge with his presence. “Sorry, just washing up.”

“Oh, silly. You could've left that for later. Did you know that Haru and I actually went to the same middle school? I’d have left just before he started, so we never would’ve met, but do you know that one art teacher who _hated_ me?” he breaks off and turns to Haru, “We sat together from the word go in high school and I think I talked about that witch for a month straight,” and yeah, he did, “Haru had her too! Just the same! Now, uh, what were you saying?”

“She gave me detention for not using colours, because I shaded in pencil,” Haru’s quiet when he talks, looking down at his lap, but all his infliction is still where it should be for a sarcastic tone.

“Right?! Her way or the high way! Ah... I miss school.”

“No you don’t,” Rin laughs. He can do this, act casual. He sits on the arm of the couch next to Makoto, sticking his fingers in his hair. “So, uh, Haru, are you interested in art?”

He shrugs. “Just a hobby.”

“He’s so _talented_ , Rin! Can I show him these?” he asks Haru, pointing at a plain black book on the coffee table. Haru nods. “Look at these. Isn’t that familiar?”

Yeah, it is. It’s the view from his new bedroom. “Did you just... do it from memory?”

“Yeah.”

Well, fuck.

 

There’s three empty tea cups on the table but Rin’s still feeling apprehensive. Haru’s quiet. Kinda shy. Introverted. But... and maybe it’s just him... he’s getting these waves of pure discomfort whenever he asks him a question. Like he really doesn’t like Rin. He knows it’s too early to call it, but...

Rin kisses the top of Makoto’s head and excuses himself to the shower, leaving those two to it. He’s never had Mako’s charisma. He’s everyone’s best friend before they’ve even met. Meanwhile, Rin’s over here with one close friend at work, and even he finds excuses not to hang out with him. How he ever convinced Makoto to love him is anyone’s guess. And even then, he knows he’s fucked up a few times.

The door to Haru’s room is closed when he makes his way back downstairs, which hopefully means he’ll have Makoto to himself to at least get a hug. Makoto hasn’t moved, still in his usual space on the couch, and Haru has vacated the room just as he’d hoped. Rin makes a beeline for his lap.

“Hey, clingy cutie,” Makoto chuckles as he gets them both comfy. “What’s up?”

Rin shrugs. He’s not really sure. And he’s less sure about how he’d word it. “How’s it going with Haru?”

“Pretty well, wouldn’t you say? He’s gone to unpack and stuff. Maybe he’ll come and hang out later. We could watch a movie?”

“Yeah. Sure. It’d be nice,” Rin mumbles. “Do you... uh... recognise him from anywhere?”

“Hmm? Nope. Why?”

“I thought I did... Well, I do, I’m sure of it, I just can’t place it, you know?”

“So that’s why you stared at him for a solid five minutes when he got out of the car, huh?”

Oh. So they’d noticed. “Creep him out a little?”

“He didn’t say anything. I told him you’re not usually so scary.”

“Hey! Ugh. Day one and I already have some making up to do.”

Makoto’s always been one to cuddle, and it’s taken a while but now Rin’s just as needy for it. And it works. He’s spent so many years brooding on the inside and he’s finally letting Makoto kiss all his worries away.

“He’s easy enough to talk to. Pretty mellow about a lot of things. I don’t think there’s much you could say to offend him.”

But if there is, Rin will nail it on the head without even trying.

 

Haru emerges when he gets hungry, hovering nervously for a second before Makoto smiles and nods and seems to read his mind, and then he carries on to the kitchen like he’s been there forever, little carrier bag of food in hand. Rin keeps glancing through the door, just checking up. It’s not like Makoto can show him how to use half the things in there. And the grill can be a _little_ bit temperamental over lighting itself. He knows Haru can see him looking, he keeps glancing up from the counter. He’s chopping something. Pretty quickly, like he knows what he’s doing with it.

He nudges further into Makoto, hiding his face. He could peep over his shoulder if he wanted to, but he’s gonna ignore it. Ignore everything. Just like Haru’s apparently ignoring him. He can hear him eating at the table behind them, can smell the fish he’s cooked up.

And then he hears Makoto summon him over.

“Hey, do you want to watch a movie or something with us later?” he asks. He squeezes around Rin to include him.

“Uh, no thanks. Big day. I might just...” he’ll be nodding his head to the door and Makoto will be understanding entirely. Instead of speaking. Like a normal person. Urgh.

“All right. Good night then, Haru. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you. Rin.”

Just the name. That’s all Rin gets. “G’night,” he offers, quietly, but Haru’s already wandering to the door anyway, and it clicks shut before Rin can even open his eyes. “Ugh. He hates me. He actually hates me. What did I do?!”

“Don’t be _silly_. He doesn’t. You’ve not done anything. It’s just... Haru.”

“How can you say that like you’ve been friends for years? How can you be sure?”

Makoto kisses his head. “I don’t know? We just kinda get each other, I guess.”

“Someone else where you can do all the talking and they’ll love you just because you’re you.”

“You make me sound like a floozy!”

“You are! You’re a friendship floozy!”

 

It turns out that Haru’s actually a bit of a hermit. The reclusive type. They see him when he’s making some lunch sometime Sunday afternoon but otherwise? They don’t even hear him. And here was Rin thinking there’d be a cataclysm of disruption and distraction by adding a third person into their household.

Makoto’s just fine with strolling into his room and striking up a random conversation. Asking little questions. “Checking in” as he calls it. Rin gets it. Making sure he’s settling all right and stuff. But he’s a grown ass adult. He’ll be fine. Protective bastard.

Things have gone too far when he catches them in the kitchen and Haru is showing Makoto how to fillet a fish for his supper. _He_ wants to hang out in the kitchen with Haru. He has a cooking buddy! After all this time! He’s gonna have a pleasant conversation with him before the day is out. To be fair, he’s cutting it a bit close at 8pm, but it would have taken him this long just to get the guts to speak to him anyway.

“You’re living dangerously there,” he pipes up from behind them.

Haru raises an eyebrow, glancing at Makoto. He’s waiting for Rin to elaborate.

“He’s a danger in the kitchen. He almost burned down out first apartment. Making _soup_.”

“Soup?” Haru repeats. And is that a smirk? But then he’s completely addressing Makoto again. “What’s your favourite food?”

“I love me some Thai curry,” Makoto grins. “Rin’s into his steak.”

“And you’re into fish, right? Mackerel? Second night in a row...” Rin speaks up again. He may or may not be grasping a hand into Makoto’s shirt.

Haru shrugs. And that’s the thing. He’s not dismissing Rin or _ignoring_ Rin. He can’t say he’s being rude, he’s just... not _engaging_ Rin. It’s not some easy connection like he’s got with Makoto. Maybe it’s Makoto’s fault, being too damn approachable for his own good, or they’re both too awkward to make any headway. Or something. Or nothing and he just hates Rin but who knows? Certainly not Rin.

“I like fish.”

 

Rin sleeps in in the morning. He’s sulking, just a little. Makoto gives him a kiss before he goes, which is always appreciated.

Today’s the day though. Today’s the day Rin’s going to win Haru over and they can all be a big happy stupid household. He’s going to find something he likes and make him share it with him. Since Makoto’s already claimed his love of fishy foods, he needs to find something else. Like hell can it be art, not with Rin’s ungodly lack of skill but there’s gotta be something. _Something._

Hermits are creatures of habit. They like routine. Or maybe that’s hermit _crabs_ and he’s got his tales tied but it’s a start. So, slip Haru into their routine. Can’t be hard, can it? Mondays are pretty nice, usually. He can get up when he wants and have a lazy breakfast, clean up from the weekend and head out to the gym.

So he’ll... take Haru to the gym! The kid’s toned enough that he must do some working out, so what could be better than a free pass to the private place that comes with his Police benefits? It’s always been pretty wasted when both he and Makoto have access with a +1 to the place.

He braces himself to knock on his bedroom door. He shouldn’t be this scared. At least Haru opens it without complaint.

“Mako and I both get these passes to the private leisure center... and he’s out at work... and I can take a +1 anyway and... I was thinking... well they just redid the pool last year and it’s really nice now and you look like you work out so doyouwanttocomewithme?”

He’s practically panting and catching his breath and Haru’s just looking at him. Rin can’t tell if he’s thinking it over or basking in Rin’s humiliation and is about to give up when Haru finally nods.

“I’ll just get my jammers,” he says easily, making a mockery of Rin’s babbling.

But he’s done it! Success!

He drives them there in near silence. He seemed so _chatty_ with Makoto but now? Nope. Nothing. Zip. It’s not awkward like he feared. They both seem to be able to appreciate silence.

“I have a regimen so I’m gonna go through to the gym... you can come if you can wait for someone to induct you, but...”

“I’ll just swim.”

“Cool. I’ll meet you back here, then.”

He takes the key for their shared locker so Haru can’t escape without him. Like he’s a child or a pet. He looks him over again in just his jammers. He’s not checking him out. But his shape... his skin and his creases and his lines where he all seams together. He _knows_ it. Low key athlete? Has he just seen him around some gym or another? Maybe swimming?

He’s just gonna fucking ask him later.

His cooldown session is always a dozen laps in the pool. He’s been in the gym for an hour so he looks for Haru on the outside of the pool, probably exhausted, but there’s not a trace of him. He’s just past through the changing rooms and he wasn’t there either. So now he has to pretend he can recognise him, from a distance, half naked, underwater. Well fuck.

He sits at one of the benches at the shallow end on the assumption he’ll have to surface there for air in the next few minutes. He likes watching people swim, anyway. His high school days were full of nothing but. He’s always found people swim breaststroke when they’re in a public pool. It’s fine, and all, but it’s not nearly as fun to watch as butterfly or free. They’re too embarrassed by the splashing it creates.

And then there’s this guy, right in the middle of the pool, swimming straight towards him like an escaped dolphin.

... Or his very own escaped Haru.

He catches his eye when Haru stops at the wall and comes over, crouching down. “Hey...” is all he can say. He wants to gush something about how his technique is slightly amazing, but he’s just... stunned.

“Hi. Are you ready to go?” Haru asks.

“Yeah... yeah if you are,” he’s not had his own swim, but he kinda doesn’t want to now. Haru will just show him up.

“Ok.”

And he sticks his hand out. Waiting. As if Rin is going to reach down for it and pull him out, just like that.

Just like he’s just done.

 

 

Haru’s just about to retreat to his room again when Rin stops him. It’s just a gentle hand on his arm and he does his best not to jump.

“Hey. I’ve been thinking since you got here that I know you from somewhere. Any ideas, to put me out of my misery?”

Well. There’s one glaringly obvious answer he’s not going to say out loud.

“No, sorry.”

“Never mind. I’m sure it’s nothing,” Rin smiles. He leaves him to himself.

Just in time for his breakdown.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah ha haaaa, hi guys.   
> Look what I just did with my bank holiday.   
> I know I've basically gone. I know my updates are all but irrelevant. And I'm sorry. I want to write, I do, I want to finish everything, and I want to talk to all of you.   
> Alas, I have to pretend to be an adult.


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

Kisumi hasn’t texted him at all since Haru left on Saturday morning. He wouldn’t think anything of it, usually, if he hadn’t just found out he’s been screwing a minor. He’s... he’s gonna have to fix this, isn’t he?

And then he’s gonna have to fix this thing with Rin.

To be fair to the guy, he’s a gay man who watches gay porn. The studio’s website is a paid-for service with no ads. And no viruses. Sure there’s the 5 minute free clips on every other porn site ever, but they get enough business that paying for it must be worth it.

Haru has a free account he can use at any time. But he’s had such regular sex for the last couple of years that he hasn’t needed to log in. That, and Sei will probably be able to track his viewing. Still he clicks his way through on his laptop, there’s the usual tabs at the header.

**Home - Categories - Movies - Pictures - Our Guys - Community - Contact**

Ugh. He clicks “our guys” and filters the search to “most popular”. Sousuke’s there in the #1 spot as he expected, and Haru’s happy to find he isn’t in the top 5. He’s down at #8 with Kisumi right behind him. It’s not bad, out of the forty-odd regulars. He doesn’t need to be on the front page of an add, but he does get a better percentage on his bonus. Kisumi’s picture is cute. He’s naked... sat on the black couch with his knees to his ears, cock and balls just sitting there, and the cheesiest grin on his face.

He clicks him and filters from oldest to newest. Starting way back when with his casting video. Everyone gets at least one chance to suck Sei’s slightly disappointing cock. Haru doesn’t quite remember the next video. Kisumi’s first real “scene”. He’s in it, the title says so. “Iruka takes beginner Pinkunohyō for the first time.” What catches his eye more, though, is the interview video that’s up _after_ that. He clicks it.

 

They’re both dressed and sitting on that infamous black couch in Sei’s office. Kisumi looks so different. So young. So nervous. He’s not leaning into Haru or even taking his hand. He’s just sitting there, a little bit of a blush going on, and Haru’s the one dolling out the affection. He can’t remember if Sei told him to or he just did it himself, but he has his arm around Kisumi’s shoulders, rubbing the top of his arm.

“So, was that your first time, going all the way?” Sei asks behind the camera.

On screen, Haru just slides his eyes over to Kisumi, but now, watching, all he wants to scream is _yes, probably!_

“And what if it is?” Kisumi’s giggling.

“Then you certainly seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Plenty of research,” Kisumi’s laughing again.

“What do you think, Iruka? He did pretty well for his first shoot, don’t you think?” Sei addresses Haru.

Haru doesn’t look a the camera. He never does in these things. The arm around Kisumi comes up to thread his fingers through his curls. “Can’t complain,” he says. What a nonchalant asshole.

“Would you two do it again? You look cute together.”

Way to bring out the creeper, Sei.

“I may or may not be a bit of a fanboy,” Kisumi looks up at Haru, just catching his eye. Haru doesn’t react.

“That’ll be a yes, then,” Sei chuckles. “So tell us, Pinkunohyō, what made you decide to do porn?”

That kid has the most ridiculous stage name.

“Uh. I like sex and I like money and I don’t really want to stand on street corners for either of them.” Blunt, Kisumi, blunt. “And, ya know, I’m still young. It’s a good place to find what I like. It’s a safe environment and I can trust my partners.”

“That’s a good answer. I can tell you’re a student. Big plans for the future?”

“Still stuck between real estate and journalism but it’s good to be going into it debt-free.”

“I’d go with journalism. The camera loves you.” Huh. Looks like he ended up taking that advice.

Haru’s ignoring the pair of them, happily petting at Kisumi while they talk. It must have been instinctual. Before he became so bitter and grumpy. And probably something to do with the afterglow of sex. Kisumi leans into him now. Haru can hardly blame him for turning out so clingy when he’s the one who started it.

“What about your family? Do they know?”

On-screen Haru pays attention now. His eyes are wider and he’s _looking_ at Kisumi for his answer, not just waiting for it.

“Not yet. I’ll tell them, though. Wouldn’t want anyone else to do it for me.”

“Another good answer. You’re a very well rounded young man, and we’re glad to have you on the team.”

The interview cuts out after a few seconds of silence where Sei’s clearly signaled the end, but the camera catches another few seconds. Kisumi leans up and kisses Haru’s cheek.

 

Does Rin watch this kinda thing? Does he care about the characters or does he just want to see some dicks in assholes? It’s surreal, seeing himself like this, in that position, and he almost doesn’t feel disgusting from seeing it like that. They both look happy enough, that’s for sure. Kisumi’s only 17 here but... it’s his choice, Haru can see that. It’s still wrong and it’s worse that he’s lied his way through but he knew what he was doing.

Rin left for work about an hour ago and he hasn’t heard Makoto return yet. Enough time to make a phone call, without the risk of eavesdropping.

But Kisumi doesn’t pick up.

He’s about to panic. Kisumi _always_ answers. Not that Haru actually calls him all that often... But still enough that Haru has to worry. Are they _not_ ok after all? Does he have more making up to do than he thought?

(if this doesn't want to load then please visit [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/daxpicsfics). technical difficulties)

Nope. No, he’s just got shit timing. He agrees to his demands without even checking it’s alright, but only Makoto’s gonna be home. He’s not going to argue. He’d let Haru get away with just about _anything_ , but he won’t push it too far. Just an hour to cuddle Kisumi and... talk to him. Talking would be good.

He gets a shower before he goes out, and this en-suite thing is pretty fucking sweet. He can walk around as naked as he likes and his door is safely shut. He can pick up some pop to stick in his fridge while he’s out, too. Get some snacks for him and Kisumi. The tiny freezer drawer is already full of mackerel.

His new house key has been sitting on his dresser all weekend, untouched, but now he adds it (and the accompanying cherry blossom key-ring) to his set. Which one of them decided that was a good idea?

Haru likes Makoto. Actually, Haru’s kinda wishing he’d known him longer. How _different_ could his life have been if he’d had this kind of influence? Everything so pleasant and logical and... not-scary. Rin’s a _bit_ scary. It’s probably just those fucking teeth, but he seems that bit more on edge. More liable to snap. Emotional.

And speaking of _emotional_ , he’s gotta look alive for Nagisa pretty soon or _he’ll_ start to worry, too. Why does he suddenly have all these other humans to deal with? He can barely deal with himself.

Still, Kisumi kinda has the priority at the moment, and he ends up at the station 10 minutes early, even though he’s been to the shops on his way. They’re as bad as each other. Haru’s not sure how Kisumi’s going to act, meeting in public like this. It’s something they’ve only done a handful of times, just when they’ve both been out and had a shoot together later that day. Just as long as he doesn’t want to hold hands.

He’s so tall among all the commuters, standing out a head above everyone as he maneuvers through them on the platform, heading for the shelter they’ve agreed to meet at. He’s got a bounce to his walk, long strides sweeping him along quickly while he manages to look lethargic. He doesn’t try looking for Haru, just turns his head and clocks him and tries to hide the shy smile creeping over his face.

“Hey,” he’s nervous, Haru can tell. Ah, fuck. The last thing he wanted was a nervous, awkward Kisumi.

“Good day?” Haru gets up from leaning against the wall and gets them into a walk. He hates hanging around with no purpose.

“Eh, it was alright. I handed in that paper I did the other night at least.”

“Schedules are good,” Haru says uselessly. Why isn’t Kusmi chatting his ear off? Haru likes it when he talks incessantly so he can just listen. Kisumi hasn’t replied yet. Haru can’t stand the silence. “So... what kind of stuff do you study, in journalism?”

“A lot of writing... communications... it’s only my first year so we’re still covering basics.”

Monotone, bland. Anxious.

“Do you want to be a writer?” Haru presses.

Kisumi shrugs. “I’d always wanted to be a presenter. Maybe a weather man. But I don’t know if they’ll allow it anymore. I don’t mind writing articles.”

He clearly fucking does if he’s pulling that face.

“Do you have... friends on your course?” he’s grasping at straws for some conversation.

“There’s a girl I sit next to who’s nice enough. Everyone else kinda has their on cliques, ya know? They’re all in dorms and hang out in the evening.”

“And you couldn’t... join in?”

“Dad’s not home till 7 and mum works evenings in a care home, so I watch Hayato most of the time. And I really want to do well on my exams at Christmas.”

They’ve still got a ten minute walk and Haru has run out of small-talk topics. He steers them down a side street as a short cut towards the beach, and crosses the promenade to the sand.

“Oh, cool! The tide is in!” Kisumi grins.

“Let’s go down,” Haru mumbles mostly too himself, as he’s already set off. He kicks his canvas pumps off and tugs his leggings up to his knees, letting the waves come around his ankles.

Kisumi stays just out of their reach, picking up Haru’s shoes and dangling them from two fingers as he sets off walking. Haru gets the hint, happy to stay in the sea for the rest of the trip. It sort of eases the tension in the air. Kisumi doesn’t want to talk and Haru’s just crap at it.It’s peaceful. The silence is filled with the sound of the ocean.

 

Makoto’s home, his shoes are in the foyer. Haru’s still got bare feet but Kisumi unties his boots and puts Haru’s down next to them. There’s humming coming from the living room. Haru pokes his head around the door.

“Oh! Haru! Hi!” Makoto’s hips suddenly stop wiggling and he jumps to attention.

“Uh, hi.” Haru walks in, Kisumi behind him. “This is my friend... wanted to see the room... I hope it’s ok.”

“No no, it’s _fiiine_ , Haru! Hey, it’s nice to meet you!” he grabs Kisumi’s hand for a shake, looking him up and down and then at Haru with a grin, and back to Kisumi.

“Shigino Kisumi. Sorry to barge in,” Kisumi’s got this kind of grace to him when he’s ramping up the charisma.

“Shigino as in... Hayato?” Makoto queries.

“Yes! I _thought_ I recognised you! Coach Tachibaba, right?”

Uh... what?

“Right! Isn’t it a small world. Hey, do you two want anything to drink? Are you staying for dinner?”

Kisumi looks at Haru and must read his confusion, slinging his arm around his neck. “Coach Tachibana is Hayato’s swim teacher! Hey, has Haru told you what a good swimmer he is? He’s _insane_.”

“No? Really, Haru? Rin’ll be _thrilled.”_

Will he now? “I went swimming with Rin this morning... sort of. He went to the gym.”

“I’m sure he’ll tell me all about it later. Now, drinks?”

“I got some. Thanks. And we’re going out for dinner, so...”

“Oh _are we_ now?” shut _up_ Kisumi.

“Deal with it. Come on,” Haru gives him a nudge and flails a hand gesture at Makoto to excuse them. He has to practically push Kisumi into his room.

The door is closed with the bolt across (sorry, Makoto) and Haru can finally breathe. Kisumi is right there when he turns around and plants a kiss on his lips. Haru gets hold of his waist.

“Makoto doesn’t know, does he?” he whispers.

Kisumi kisses him again. “About the porn? No. I don’t think it’s something mum would really talk about.”

Well, at least he’s got that going for him. He sighs and leans forward, happy that Kisumi will still kiss him like it’s easy. Their walk on the beach has done them both good, it seems. He’s more himself.

“Are you ashamed of it?” Kisumi asks, quietly. He steps back and sits on the bed, dragging his hands down Haru’s arms and settling his hands on his hips.

“Are you _not?_ ”

“It’s... not something I _talk_ about. But there’s nothing _wrong_ with it. I mean, there’s enough people who _watch_ it, so...”

Haru could straddle his lap or hug over his head or anything, really, but he doesn’t. He just stands there and lets Kisumi run circles with his thumbs on his hips. “I hate it,” he finally admits.

Kisumi looks up at him and bites his lip. Haru looks away. “Do you want to... talk about it? I mean... it can’t be healthy to bottle it up, can it?”

“I’m fine,” he lies. “I was worried about _you._ ”

“Why? You’re cute, Haru.”

“Fuck off,” he grumbles.

Kisumi responds by dragging him onto the bed and rolling on top of him in a hot kiss.

“Come on, then. Where’s my grand tour?”

“Well you’ve already seen the bed,” Haru shifts him off and rolls them both onto their sides, facing each other. “I’ve got my own bathroom, too.”

“ _Sweet!_ And you were right about that view. I can’t wait for the sunset.” Who says he’s staying for sunset? “So, whatchu wanna do?”

“I want to talk to you, actually...”

“You just said you didn’t,” Kisumi teases and kisses him again.

“I meant about you.”

Kisumi sighs. “And I guess I’m trapped here until you’re satisfied?”

“Yep. And then I’ll buy you dinner and walk you home and everything goes back to normal.”

Whatever the fuck “normal” means. Kisumi kisses him, which is pretty normal. But he’s quiet, which isn’t. Haru’s gonna have to do the talking.

 

There’s a few moments of silence. A few sighs and a few kisses. And then Haru starts.

“I’m not going to ask you about the age thing... it’s your choice. I get it. You know what you’re doing. I just want to make sure that you’re... ok, I guess.”

“ _Haru!_ Honestly, why are you worrying so much?”

“Because...” because he looked so fucking scared when he was being drilled by Sousuke. “You’re my friend. I care.”

Well, isn’t that the most incredulous eye-roll Haru’s ever seen. “Friends, huh?”

“Friends.” and yes it’s unconventional... there’ll be some technical tumblr term for what they are, he’s sure, but that’s about as close as Haru can get.

“Alright.”

“And,” he has to think for a second. He’s not good at this. So much too say and the right words either don’t exist or make him sound like a tacky romance film, “your dad noticed... after that thing with Sousuke. Has that happened... before?”

“Haru, like 90% of shoots I do are with you. I’m the king of the cutsies. Sei won’t even script me in for anything that even involves toys.”

“So what about the threeway?”

“I had to _ask for it_ , silly. I’ve got a field trip to pay for. And Sei didn’t like it anyway, so it won’t be happening again.”

All of the weight in the world as suddenly melted away, and Haru can breathe a sigh of relief as he rolls over and throws an arm around him. “And if there’s ever something similar... I’ll do it for you. You can still take the payment, I don’t care, I just...”

“ _Haru_ ,” and either Haru’s lost weight or Kisumi’s stronger than he looks, because he grabs a hold of him and drags him on top, kissing him again, “and I though _I_ was the protective big brother! Stop _fussing!_ I’m _fine!_ ”

He believes that about as much as when he says it himself. But ok. Two can play at that game. There’s some more moments of quiet, but they’re less awkward this time around. Just kinda touching each other in this subdued rift. Like the moments after sex, where it’s just nice to be near each other.

“Hey, Haru?” Kusmi finally whispers, and it tickles over Haru’s ear. “Why do you do it, if you hate it so much?”

The answer’s simple and it hurts to say it out loud, and the words are probably wrong anyway. “Because I’m crap at everything else,” he mutters. He can taste the bitterness on his tongue. His own self-resentment.

Kisumi must know not to try and argue back, which is part of the reason he’s never been able to talk to Nagisa about this. He gets a squeeze and a kiss to the cheek that’s probably supposed to be comforting, but all it does it make Haru aware of how quiet Kisumi’s being about it.

“What do you want for dinner?” he says to break the silence.

“Surprise me,” Kisumi huffs. “Something outside.”

Oh, good, then they can get something cheap from a kiosk and find a comfy spot on the sand. Watch that sunset this romantic asshole seems so hung up on.

Haru doesn’t end up walking him home in the end. Kisumi kisses his cheek and gets up off the beach before it gets too late and disappears into the distance, while Haru just sits. His ass is getting cold as the night air chills the sand and he really should move.

But it’s dark and deserted. It’s windy off shore. The waves sound like their own brand of thunder.

And no one can tell he’s crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this???  
> Two chapters in a week???  
> Don't get used to it, I think I'm broken.


	7. Chapter 7

There’s activity in the house this morning. Socked feet padding past his bedroom door, back and forth from the bathroom. Strained whispers, like they’re trying to be quiet. Interjected with the odd swear from Rin. It’s only early, _real_ early, and Haru doesn’t know if they’re actually starting work soon or doing something else with their morning first. If they’re going to that gym again...

But even Haru doesn’t want to get out of bed today. He’s _exhausted_. He hasn’t had a swim like yesterday in god knows how long and that time on the beach has sapped the very last dregs of life out of him. Listening to their morning routine is... comforting, in its own way. Domestic an homely and _nice_. He’s never had this. This sleepy banter he can hear between Makoto and Rin. Rin’s being bossy and Makoto sounds like he’s still comatose. There’s a brief silence and then “I love you”s are exchanged. One of them leaves. The other follows shortly after. It’s like Haru isn’t even there. He’s not in the way, he’s not holding them up, he’s not having to do anything for them or feel guilty for not offering. They’re just getting on with it.

So he goes back to sleep.

He wakes up again closer to the afternoon than anything else, and about half an hour into his day he’s oh so glad he did. He’s _bored_. What did he used to do all day at Nagisa’s? Draw??? Watch TV??? Heck, jog??? Nothing sounds even remotely entertaining. He’s even feeling a little bit lonely. Nagisa’s in class, and he’s got to assume Kisumi is too.

Haru is not a restless person. He’s never this... _hyped_ , this tactile, this needy. It’s like someone’s spiked his bath water with how charged up he’s become. He comes out of his room to this empty, still unknown house. He feels like he should tip-toe. Like Makoto and Rin really ought to be supervising him right about now. But he can explore a little, without the fear of them watching him. The pictures on the mantel are cute. They both have siblings, and there’s childhood family photos too. Makoto with baby twins and then again in what must be a first day of school photo. Rin with a sister and his parents, outside a house like they’ve just moved in. And then... Rin with just his mum and sister. Huh. What happened there, then?

There’s even high school swim trophies on the book shelf. He remembers competing against the school they went to... they were always so intense about it. Haru had sulked for a week at the end of middle school when his parents could only shrug an apology that they couldn’t afford to send him there. How different would his life be now, if he’d had some proper coaching under his belt? He could be in _Rio_ right now.

Or at least behind a desk at some minimum wage call center job.

And speaking of work, today is Tuesday, so if he’s in for a job any time this week today is the day he’ll get the call. He supposes it’s one of the “perks” to being otherwise unoccupied. Kisumi needs a booking at least a couple of weeks in advance to work around his studies, and apparently Sousuke will only do Thursdays and weekends.

 

He takes his laptop to the dining room table, putting the telly on low in the background and booting up his regular websites. Yesterday’s porn is still open in his incognito tab and, greeted by a picture of Kisumi’s asshole, he swiftly shuts it. But he doesn’t feel _quite_ as bad about that boy as he did yesterday. So long as the kid can keep his crush in check.

Makoto’s said he’s allowed to “help himself” to food in the kitchen. Haru’s not quite down with that. Not just yet. Not until he knows what their favourite snacks are so he can avoid them like the plague. But... a can of noodle soup from the top shelf of the cupboard? He’ll risk that. A lot of the cookware is old, like their parents have passed it down as an excuse to get new stuff for themselves. Haru _does_ like the wight of a good old fashioned cast iron pan.

Sei finally calls while he’s mopping up the dregs of the soup with a piece of bread. He dreads this call just a little bit more each week, and he doesn’t know if he’s worried he won’t get any work at all, or just miserable that he has to take it. He has enough for two months rent saved up, if all he wants to live off is expired ramen. He might try and get a little extra for a few weeks, just to put him in good stead.

“Hello,” he answers, not even needing to put effort into the deadpan.

“Hey, cutie,” he always flirts on the phone, “wanna get your ass in action for me, say... 11 on Thursday? Got your new fav signed up for a run, and we can’t have him by himself, can we?”

_Sousuke’s gonna fuck him_.

“Uh, sure, I guess,”Haru stabs the last of his crust with a chop stick, forcing the next words out. “And... can I get a few hours on cleaning? Filing? Just to... fill a gap...”

“Well _sure_ , honey, you know you’re always welcome. You remember we’ve got our quarterly on Saturday, right? The place could do with some TLC.”

Well, he’d forgotten, but that’s another date for his diary and some cash in his wallet at any rate. Where they start off with a staff meeting and then he’ll push a camera in the face and some of them have to stage an orgy.

“Uh huh.”

“ _Great_. I’ve got some great ideas. _Big plans_ , if you know what I mean. You’ll love it.”

Will he now?

“See you on Thursday.”

“See you, babe. And remind your boy for me too, kay?”

Haru hangs up.

Kisumi aint his boy.

 

Five days of no Haru is apparently too much for Nagisa. They’ve known each other so long that Nagisa _knows_ what Haru’s like. He can handle his silence just fine, even after a big event, but only for so long. And the time has come where Haru has to put on the happy face and pretend life is a rainbow and he is a unicorn. He even gives permission for Nagisa to give him a call.

“You’re _alive_ ,” Nagisa gasps.

“Nope. Zombie. Where are you, so I can come and eat your brains?”

“ _Haru!_ But I’m at uni, just chilling until my next class.”

“You live five minutes away.”

“Yeah but that’s like ten minutes there and back so then I’ll only have fifty to do nothing.” And the best part is, he’s completely serious. “So how _is_ it?”

“It’s nice. Really... quaint and old fashioned. I have my own mini fridge in my room.”

“I don’t care about the _room_ , Haru! I mean the people replacing me!”

Haru almost ( _almost!_ ) laughs out loud. “As if that’s even possible. They both work. Fireman and a cop.”

“You’ll have to be on your best behaviour then, Haru-chan!”

“Always. How’s life without me?”

“Full of carbs and sin.”

And that just about sums up that. But at least he’s alright. And at least he’s not harboured any hard feelings for Haru’s abrupt departure. He can feel already that their friendship has relaxed back into its natural state, now he’s not tiptoeing around him any more.

It’s ticking towards 4pm now and Haru expects someone to be coming home any second now. He gathers up his plate and his mug and even a cereal bowl that’s been left on the floor next to the couch from this morning and back to the kitchen. It’s not unclean, they obviously _try_ to keep on top of it, but it’s nowhere near perfect and Haru... likes perfect. He likes perfect so much that he doesn’t even know how long Rin’s been staring at him through the kitchen window while he engrosses himself with the dishes.

He glances up and all he can see is a mop of red hair and a toothy grin. Like, really toothy. Still dressed in his police uniform.

“Coming swimming?” Rin mouths through the glass.

Haru only has to nod. Rin goes back to the car to wait.

He looks... stressed. Haru feels like that smile was only to take the piss out of him, rather than anything else. Maybe a trip to the gym is just what he needs after work. Only now he’s feeling obligated to take Haru with him too. He’s quick to stuff his jammers and a towel into a drawstring bag and head around to the passenger side of the car.

“Makoto’s meeting us there. I need to let off some steam. I swear to god if there’s someone using the good punch bag, they’re gonna _become_ the punch bag.”

Right. So he _is_ stressed. Haru doesn’t _do_ stress. More precisely, he doesn’t do people who _are_ stressed. What’s he supposed to do? What’s he supposed to say?

“Uh... work?” Haru offers, just as they’re coming up to a light.

Rin turns in such a way that makes Haru feel like a moron. “Yeah. Work,” he grunts.

And then nothing. Silence, for most of the ride, until they’re stuck waiting in after-work traffic and Rin sighs and pushes back from the wheel.

“Sometimes we see some proper shit... the worst kinds of people...”

“Oh.”

Nice going there, Haru.

But he doesn’t have anything else to say. Rin gives a half smile and shuts up again, and Haru turns to look out of the window instead of chancing any awkward eye contact. They park in the same spot as yesterday and Haru follows Rin through to the lockers to change.

 

“Hey, what’s that on your hip?” Rin suddenly asks. He’s just stopped with his legskin around his knees and staring at Haru’s side.

Haru’s only requirement when filming is no love bites where they can be seen. Kisumi’s pretty good with not leaving any at _all_ , so where this thing has come from he doesn’t kn - _Sousuke_. Well. Fuck. That’s Haru going back to always wearing his jammers under his pants if this is gonna become a regular thing.

“Nothing,” he mutters, hoisting his swimsuit up in a heart beat.

And _ohhh_ the look Rin is giving him does not look convinced. He’s like a sleazy high schooler in on a dirty little secret. “Uh huh. No one special in your life, then?”

“Nope,” and it’s staying that way.

Rin absolutely doesn’t fucking believe him.

“What happened to your regimen?” Haru asks, following Rin out to the pool.

He shrugs. “Swimming calms me down, ya know? I’m switching it in for my warm up.”

“Uh huh,” Haru’s not sure if that’s how regimens are supposed to work, but when’s he ever been into training, anyway?

Rin’s kinda watching... staring, as Haru waits for an opening at the diving end to get going. Part of him wants to ask what’s so fucking fascinating, and part of him is just trying to stay focused so he doesn’t end up with a belly flop he won’t live down for days. Finally, he can make his escape and takes his chance, sinking under the water and powering away from Rin. He waits for a splash somewhere behind him, but it doesn’t come. He makes his turn and heads back, popping up at the wall and looking around for him... and he’s not even in the pool. He’s still there, just on the side. Watching.

“What?” Haru gives up and asks.

“Your swimming... it’s...” yeah, yeah. Haru’s heard it all before. So _free_ or _beautiful_ as Nagisa an Rei like to swoon. Honestly, it’s just _swimmi_ \- “messy.”

....What?

“It’s like. You’ve got the skills there. I bet you were on the team in school, right? You’re so out of practice, though.”

“Uh..” UHH.

“Your posture’s just gotten slack, I think,” Rin decides, scrutinising even more intensely. And then he jumps in the pool. “Come here,” _fuuuuck_.

“Um...” suddenly Haru is on his front, head tilted just enough so he doesn’t drown, and Rin has a hand right in that ticklish bit on his stomach, pushing it up.

Like hell he’s gonna show weakness here.

“Tense for me,” Rin demands.

Haru thought he already fucking was, but he squeezes his abs even harder.

“Some sit-ups for you, I think,” Rin’s sort of laughing, sort of sighing. “Go on, I’m sure Makoto will sort you out at some point. My coaching days are way behind me.”

And then he slaps Haru’s thigh. Slaps. His. Thigh.

Haru’s in such shock he startles for a second before flailing away and darting to the other end of the pool, but Rin is swimming now, too. He’s definitely more powerful than Haru’s ever been but it’s... lethargic. He seems to care so much and yet he... doesn’t. Huh.

He’s glad when he sees Makoto show up and climb down the ladder, purposefully putting himself in Rin’s way to catch him on his return journey. Haru waits by the wall. He wants to go over but something’s telling him not to, and the way they hug when Rin almost barges into him explains it all, really. Rin’s already looking better. Haru watches them swim a few laps together, and then they’re aiming towards him.

“I’m gonna head through, now,” Rin decides. “You gonna sort him out, like I said?” he asks Makoto.

Oh. So they’ve been talking about _him_.

“I said I’d think about it,” Makoto doesn’t scold him. Can’t scold him. He couldn’t even scold a cat. “Now go away. I love you.”

Rin blushes and pecks Makoto’s lips, scrambling up the side to escape. Haru looks away. The only time he sees people kiss is when it’s been scripted.

“He’s cute, isn’t he,” Makoto says as he goes, watching him with this...thing in his eyes Haru doesn’t know how to describe. Something not fake. “How has he been, this afternoon? He was upset on the phone earlier...”

“He said something about work. Bad people. I’m not good at... you know...”

“It’s alright,” ah, shit, Makoto’s patting him, “neither’s he. But he seems to have perked up. Thanks for looking after him.”

“...Right.”

“Should we swim? I promise I’m not as pedantic as Rin.”

He’s not, out loud, but from the look on his face he might as well be.

The _one_ thing he thought he was good at...

 

 

They all get hungry at the same time later on, with Haru poking his head out of his room, like he’s assessing the situation. He’s so shy, yet so abrupt. Makoto, quietly, thinks he’s a little bit hilarious, like a meerkat looking for big scary Rin-birds, and summons him over with a wave.

“Rin’s making noodles, if you want to join us.”

He does. Makoto can see it all over his little face. “Um... sure..? Thank you?” ha, aw. Awkward little shit.

And then he just stands there, as if sliding his eyes all the way to the left will let him see into the kitchen without being caught. Makoto’s trying so hard not to laugh. He gets up, getting an arm around Haru’s shoulders and gently coaxing him along to the kitchen.

“Hope there’s enough for three there,” he says to Rin, getting his attention.

“Hmm? Yeah. Yeah. Have I ever measured the right amount of noodles in my life?” he’s distracted. Thinking too hard.

Makoto wants to touch him. He wouldn’t consider himself _shy_ but sliding his arms around Rin’s waist and watching him cook over his shoulder doesn’t feel nearly as tempting with the epitome of awkward dangling beside them. He doubts Haru even cares if they’re all cuddled up, but with Rin in the mood he is, Mako’s not really wanting to push things.

However, Haru can cook. He just needs to drop enough hints to get Rin away from the stove and let Haru do the stirring while he gives his boy a good kiss and find out what’s happened. Sometimes, he thinks Rin is too emotional for his job. But others, he’s just the type needed for it.

Or he could just put on his coach voice and get it over with easily.

“Rin-Rin, can I borrow you just a sec?” he asks, gently, though he can see Rin’s spine tense up, like a cat rubbed the wrong way. “Can you take over, Haru-chan?”

“... _Chan_ ,” he hears a hissed whisper, and yeah... that slips out a lot. It makes Rin snort enough to drag him away, though.

They don’t go far, just to the alcove by the door where Makoto can lean back and wrap Rin up in a hug he knows he needs. Rin won’t want to talk about it, never does, but he does need some comforting on days like this. Makoto doesn’t want him suffering in silence just because they’re a little embarrassed around Haru. But that’ll change, he thinks. Especially if these two keep going to the pool.

He thinks, _thinks_ , Haru is going to sit with them for dinner. He’s hovering with his bowl like he’s assessing the situation. Does he even realise how long he spends frozen in anxious thought? Maybe it’s just a second to Haru, but in the real world it’s a noticeable standstill. Makoto waits. Rin glares from behind his chopsticks.

“I’ll give you two some peace,” Haru finally says, quietly. The pros have weighed in favour of his room today. Maybe for his own reasons, but maybe he’s got thoughts of Rin’s needs in there two.

Well, there’s plenty more meal times they can share together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm too tired to make an author's note.


	8. Chapter 8

 

Haru’s little en-suite doesn’t have a bath, but even he can get over that when the shower has pressure this good. He’s gonna head to the studio early to get his extra hours in. He can make sure the studio he’s filming in is nothing if not sterile. He pulls on some navy leggings and a baggy black top. Stuff he can still be seen out in but he’s not so worried about getting bleach on.

Makoto’s up too. Haru finds him staring at the kettle in nothing but his boxers. He must see Haru in his peripheral, and gets another mug out.

“Coffee? It’s just instant,” he asks.

“Um. Tea?”

“Don’t need the caffeine fix, huh? Where are you off to at this time?”

Haru shrugs. Makoto’s got traps for days and he can’t stop staring. “Work stuff. Nothing exciting.”

Except it is, kinda. Haru’s been thinking about it a lot. Getting those weird tingles he got as a teen whenever he’d get a pat on the back in the pool from the hot captain. Butterflies in his stomach. Awkward boners.

“I’ve got a nursery school coming to see the station today. Gotta run round and child proof the place. They’re so cute though. Everyone wants to make the sirens go.”

“Hope you’ve got ear plugs.”

“Right? Rin will be working late tonight. We should get a calendar or something, so you know what’s going on. We can all stick our silly shifts on it.”

Not a bad idea. That way he knows when _not_ to let Kisumi come round. The last thing Haru needs is for Rin to recognise him as well and suddenly realise everything.

Speak of the devil. The devil in a fucking onesie.

He’s smug, propping his elbow up on Haru’s shoulder and just standing there with a smirk.

“House to myself?” he looks at Haru, asking. “Where the hell are you going in pants that tight?”

“Work,” Haru says, trying to keep his tone mellow and bland. “They’re comfortable.”

“Uh huh. You’re skinny enough to get away with them, I guess... I want to work wherever you’re going if I can show up in my pjs... Hey... where’s my coffee?”

Makoto hands Haru his mug and Rin stares dejectedly. “You’re going back to bed,” Makoto teases. “And, Haru, where _are_ you going? I can drop you off, if you want?”

Hell no. “It’s ok. I’ll go along the beach.”

“What are you freelancing up today? Some fancy sculpture? Taking pictures? Secret project?” Rin presses. He’s got his arm right around Haru’s shoulders now and this kinda needs to stop.

“Cleaning,” at least he can be honest. “Prep work for something. Nothing fun to tell you about.”

“Yet?” Makoto smiles.

“We’ll see,” Haru shrugs his shoulders like all his plans could fall through. At least it shuts them up.

 

Haru retreats to his room to make some toast, picking at it slowly until he hears Makoto leave, and even then, he gives it another five minutes. Haru’s got that horrible feeling he’ll take one step towards the town center, and Makoto will round the corner and bully him into taking a ride. Rin is nowhere to be found when he emerges again. Haru calls a _bye_ into the abyss and gets a grunt in response. It’s like living with Nagisa all over again.

He lets himself into the building with the door code and the key from the foyer plant pot. It’s a strange place when he’s the only one here. So big and empty, far too bright with the day-light LEDs. Even his breathing seems to echo. The cleaning closet is located beside the stairs to the basement studios - where they keep the “bar” and the “garage” and all the weird set ups like that. All the household rooms are located on this floor, in a huge room, surrounding the central camera area, separated by screens if need be. There’s a mezz floor for Sei’s office, just to keep up appearances.

He’s acquired a routine over the years for scrubbing this place up. Start with the dressing rooms and the bathroom - get that really filthy stuff over with - and then onto the studios, spraying the whole thing with copious amounts of Detol and getting through a full pack of j-cloths before he’s even hit the basement. He strips all the beds, six in total, and the throws that protect the sofas from certain stains, and gets his first load of washing going downstairs in the one washer in the launderette studio they actually plumbed in to work.

It’s meticulous and methodical and everything Haru needs.

 

Sei and his assistant show up at nine(ish...), with Aichirou tracking Haru down in the little hub area the guys can hang out in and wait for their sessions or sometimes just chill. There’s a lot of them that aren’t ‘out’ to their families and it’s a space to hang out with other people like them. Haru’s never even joined them for a movie night.

“Iruka-san?” Ai’s always so nervous. “I have your script...”

“Um...” Haru’s still elbow deep in his Marigold’s with a spray bottle in one hand and a scrubber in the other. “Could you... leave it in my room? Please.”

“Kemono-san is coming in an hour... I think the boss wants you to run through it together.”

Of course he does. “Right... ok.”

Haru has to finish up the laundry and then he can finally take a shower and start prepping up. And if Sousuke isn’t rocking up till ten he can _easily_ squeeze in an nap. He stores all the bed linen in the “master bedroom” wardrobe and puts on the regular wash of towels and sheets that he’s sure Ai will help with later.

Sei’s been going round with his rotation sheet and dry-wipe pen, scrawling names and times on all the dressing room doors and on the big grid for the studio rooms. Haru and Sousuke are down for the kitchen and they’ve also gotta share a dressing room. Huh. He’s not so sure how he feels about _that_.

He has to use the bathroom and pick up his bag of goodies from his locker anyway, and at least Sousuke’s dressing room is the one with the actual mattresses, instead of that stupid hospital bench thing. But it really is just the mattresses. Like six of them, all stacked up in the corner making little steps where they get smaller and smaller, from king size down to single. Two copies of the script have been left on the pillow. Haru gets the shower warming up and goes to take a gander.

And shit. He’s hard already.

 

The door creaks and there’s a pause.

“Hey...” Sousuke sounds confused. “Um...”

And alright. Maybe Haru’s being a bit provocative, lying on his front bare ass naked with a butt plug very obviously on display.

“Yo,” he greets, trying to sound casual.

He’s so not casual. But Sousuke is. Haru can feel him coming closer and the lightest of touches on his ass, testing, and a hand moving towards his plug to pump it back and forth a couple of times. And then he sits down.

“Hows the script looking?”he asks. He’s touching Haru’s back, tracing up and down and dancing his fingers like it’s nothing while Har’s trying not to squirm.

“Pretty... interesting,” Haru decides. “Looks like a fun day.”

“I’ll clean up and have a look.”

Haru goes back to idly texting Nagisa, helping him cope with his lecture, and absolutely isn’t looking up every five seconds to watch Sousuke soap himself up. He’s left that shower curtain open on purpose, Haru just knows it. He’s only _mostly_ dried off when he comes back to the bed. His damp chest and arms drape over Haru’s shoulders and stick them together.

“Ooh, _nice_ ,” Sousuke’s mumbling as he reads.

“What about this?” Haru points to something he certainly noticed. “Can you do that?”

“Are you trying to _insult_ me? Easy. Do we get brunch beforehand?”

“ _You_ might.”

Sousuke snorts a laugh. “Ha. Right. Can’t have you shitting yourself, can we?”

“Shut up. I have a perfect record to keep,” Haru affirms, rolling away from Sousuke to absolutely no avail. He just moves into the empty space.

He takes hold of Haru’s plug again, moving it in and out with more purpose now. Haru ignores him as much as he can. Which isn’t really that much.

 

Their script calls for them to be fully dressed for the start of filming, and Haru’s given a frill blue apron to accessorize his ensemble. He positions himself in the kitchen studio and tries to figure out what he’s going to do to “look busy”. The stove doesn’t even work. He gets out a dry rag and practices some cleaning motions on the counter. Practicing because... well... even the most basic of tasks suddenly become awkward and impossible on camera.

Sei’s laughing at him. “Alright you two. We’ll just get a few seconds on Haru and then Sousuke can come in. And you’re all like _oh I’ve missed you so much._ Make it cute. Can you do romance? Because that’s what I’m looking for, as hot as it’s gonna be when you fuck anyway.”

Hahahaha no. No, Haru can’t do romance. It’s one of the things that swayed him towards porn in the first place. So he can get screwed with _out_ being screwed over. At least all hell he’ll have to do is pull some puppy eyes and then they can get on with it.

He cleans his counter and feels Sousuke’s arms wrap around him from behind, pulling him tight.

“I missed you today. Have you had a nice day?” Sousuke swoons in his ear. It’s quiet, but there’s a boom mic over their heads.

Haru hates having speaking parts. “Yeah.”

He puts down his rag and tilts his head back. Sousuke comes down for a kiss. It’s not in the script. He turns around his his arms and goes with the flow of the hug. Sousuke kisses him again, gently hoisting him onto the counter with one arm like he weighs nothing.

“I missed you so much, I don’t think I can wait till after dinner,” ugh. It’s so cheesy. Sousuke’s fiddling with the tri-glide on his apron and loosening it, then going to let down the bow at the back.

There’s a camera on one side that’s stationary, and one on the other side panning up and down and catching every inch of skin as Sousuke reveals it as he slowly strips Haru’s clothes off. It’s gentle and delicate and caring, the way Sou coaxes Haru down onto his knees, but there’s so much strength and power holding the back of his head as the tip of his dick touches his lips that Haru is quivering in awe.

They have to pause to let a third camera slip in between Sousuke’s legs to get an up close view of Haru’s mouth.

“This is meant to last a full five minutes,” Sousuke says and thumbs Haru’s bottom lip. “Cool it a little...”

Haru doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. Is Sousuke liking this a little too much already?

After the blowjob scene, Haru is up on the kitchen table, bent over with his ass in the air and Sousuke’s face right between his cheeks. This guy just has _such_ a _way_ with his _tongue_ that Haru can hardly handle it. Can’t handle it. _Isn’t_ handling it. Sousuke’s squeezing and kneading at his ass and thighs. Spanking. Biting. And then it suddenly stops and he’s shaking.

Oh. Ok. It’s been that long already? They’re repositioning, getting Haru onto his back on the table and his legs spread wide. He’s still barely had his cock touched but it almost seems irrelevant.

Sousuke’s cock goes in and Haru’s brain goes out. The both make a noise, a _real_ noise, not the forceful grunts and whimpers that viewers apparently die for. They make eye contact, just for a second, but it’s such a long second. The world stops and spins for that moment. Haru’s anticipation is building. His favourite part of the script is coming as soon as he cums. Part of him wants to hurry it along but this is all so good that he wants it to last forever.

...He’s forgotten the last time he felt like this.

“There we go,” Sousuke sounds almost _proud_ as he eases Haru through his climax with some slow, tender thrusts. He’s arching along with Haru, who’s ended up way back on his shoulders, and helps him down, and then they cut. Haru’s glad for the minute breather.

Sousuke’s touching him. Little rubs all over his messy chest and his legs. Ai comes over with wipes that Sou takes charge of, cleaning Haru off for their next phase.

“I felt that,” he says, smirking. “Almost clenched my cock off.”

Haru kinda wouldn’t mind having that stuck up in there indefinitely. He doesn’t say anything, and even if he did it wouldn’t make sense. Sousuke’s starting to get ready for the next scene, securing his arms tightly. Haru likes the feeling. It’s so tight that it’s comforting, in a way. It’s dependence and _trust_ and all those things he seems to lack whenever he’s with anyone else. He could collapse and Sousuke could take it.

He could break down and Sousuke would stay.

He’s weightless when Sousuke lifts him. It’s his favourite thing, being strapped to someone’s chest with just their arms while they’re thrusting up into him at full pelt. All he can do is hold on and all he can think about is holding on. He doesn’t have to worry about his face or where his hands go or what noises to make, because it’s so good that everything’s natural anyway. Pleasure at it’s purest.

Sousuke’s getting closer. His nails are digging in and his breaths are harder and faster against Haru’s neck, teeth just scraping, whether accidental or not. His release is so strong that Haru shudders at the feeling inside of him. Sousuke’s shaking, really having to strain himself to keep Haru elevated for these last few minutes while they take the shots of Haru’s ass.

“Phew. You boys are _hot_ ,” Sei praises. He’s come over and Haru can see he wants to touch them. The crotch of his sweats is about to tear.

Sousuke turns around so he can lean on the table, still holding Haru. They’re both panting. Haru’s slipping into a sex coma, barely able to register what they’re saying.

“Hey, dolphin-boy,” Sei teases. He puts his sweaty hands on Haru’s back and takes him from his lovely hold on Sousuke. “You still with us?”

“Mm,” Haru grunts. He’s not sure he can stand on his own. His legs are like jelly. Someone’s holding his waist and for all he knows it could be one of the film crew, he’s just glad they’re there.

“Fucked his brains out there. Good man,” he laughs, claps Sousuke on the shoulder, and then he’s gone.

“Well, we should probably clean up,” Sousuke says, and Haru realises it’s _his_ hands on his waist. He steps closer, craving more contact. “Do you still need a minute?”

“Legs,” Haru manages. “Dead.”

“I guess I’m not in such a rush,” he lets Haru lean on him, talking softly. “Any plans for the rest of the day? I’ve got a gym date with my co-worker...friend... from my real job.”

“Full of surprises,” it’s a weak attempt at snark. “A friend _and_ a job...”

“I’ll drop you,” and it’s a fair threat. “What about you? Anything else on your plate?”

Haru just shakes his head.

 

He’s so hungry when he’s finally clean and alive enough to leave the studio that he risks the dodgy hotdog stand on the edge of the industrial estate, inhaling the whole thing before he’s even reached the path to the beach. It’s such a quiet time of day. The tide is out, way out, leaving miles and miles of sand he could walk in if he wanted, but he just chooses to sit in it.

He wants to draw. _Really_ wants to draw. He doesn’t know what, and he’s no materials with him, but he wants to capture this moment. The quiet of the beach and the quiet in his head, just for these few moments.

 

Haru’s shoes are at the door when Rin gets home, but he’s nowhere to be found. Probably holed up in his room again. He has such visions of inviting him to join them, play some games, get a little tournament going, watch a movie when Makoto gets home.

“Well, I’m fucked,” Sousuke groans and flops down, flicking up the recliner lever and sprawling out in the armchair.

“Oh, please! You’ve been acting like a tired old man all day!”

“Well, I was working this morning.”

“You were _not_ working this morning!” they’re partners, they have the exact same shift schedule. If he’s getting extra overtime and Rin’s missing out... oh.

“Yeah. My _other_ job.”

Sousuke’s waiting for some kind of reaction. He’s past the point of embarrassment now, but knows damn well Rin isn’t. Mostly due to the way he found out. With Makoto away for some family time, he’d been... _exploring_ some of his tastes, clicking on longer, more professional videos than the usual amateur stuff he’d go for to rub a quick one out when he was just a bit bored.

He’d never planned on looking his best friend in the eye when he shot all over his screen.

At least it explains why Sousuke can afford a _Range_ Rover and Rin’s ride is just just a Rover. But he doesn’t like to go into the details. From what he’s let on, it’s... kinda got its ups and downs. Sousuke’s had more _ups_ recently, but there was a time when Rin couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just quit. Sousuke’s answer had been simple.

_“Who else is gonna fuck me?”_

“Oh...” Rin finally says. “Uh... good day?”

“Mm. Guy’s a bit of a weirdo, but he’s got the best ass in that building by far.”

“Right... didn’t need to know that.”

He’s always been curious. He kind of _wants_ to know more, understand more of this other world Sousuke lives in.

“He’s cute. You’d like him.”

Ah shit. Sousuke’s doing that thing again... getting out his phone and starting to make his way through the porn site he works for to show him a quick picture, when he thinks it’s someone who’ll make Rin blush. He knows his tastes too well... and for however much he loves Makoto, would never do _anything_ to hurt him, he’s just not Rin’s ideal body-type. He’s got a thing for smaller, leaner guys. Hip bones and collar bones and shoulder blades. Kinda like...

“Hey.”

“Haru!” just where the hell did he come from? “Hi! Um. Uh... sorry. This is Yamazaki Sousuke... my partner at work. Sometimes my best friend. He was just. Um.”

“Nevermind. It would be embarrassing if you knew him,” Sousuke puts his phone away. At least he doesn’t have to deal with _that_.... “It’s nice to meet you.”

He reaches his hand out politely, and Haru only stares at it for a millisecond before accepting the shake.

“Nanase Haruka. I’m Rin and Makoto’s new housemate.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, do me a favour?  
> Hug your doggies for me. And your cats. And your rabbit or you lizard and maybe give your goldfish a new toy or something.  
> Between this chapter and the last, I had to send my little girl Lyric for the long sleep.  
> I've started writing more since, but mostly as a distraction, so I don't know if my style is right or the flow is there and I'm even lazier about editing than usual.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to read your comments and your kudos is more than appreciated!  
> Daxii on tumblr.


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